Talon's Bridle
by Era-Age
Summary: She only knew horses: their hooves, mane, coat, diet... She didn't want to learn Assassins, but life as she knew it never smiled upon her. Altair/OC, rating may possibly change with future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

So, I'm giving it a shot. I'm making an Altair/OC story, I know, terrible T.T Doing my best to make this one unique from the others and to not make the main character a Mary-Sue. Please review and tell me if you think I should continue with this story.

(And yes, I am still going to be working on Loving Hate, dontchya worry!)

All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else belongs to me me me :3

"_Asa!_ Hurry up with that horse, would you? We do not have all day, child! Soon your father will be home and expecting dinner on the table!"

Ugh. Why me?

"Do you not listen to what I tell you? For Allah's sake, child, _hurry up!_"

Oh, yeah, I know why.

"_Ooo-uumma!_ It would at least be polite to look at me while I'm speaking to you!"

Sabir is always like that. Always bellowing, 'Asa, come here' or 'Asa, go do that', or, my personal favorite, '_Ooo-uumma! Asaaaaaaa!_' You've no choice but to give him credit, though; anyone who's willing to put up with a woman like me is worthy of a pat on the back. Or, in my circumstances, a bale of hay thrown at them, which is exactly what I did to make my point to Sabir.

He squabbled when the straw suddenly attacked him, swinging and flailing his arms as if he was teetering on the edge of a cliff. I sighed, shaking my head, "You know I can't call it a day before my work here is done," I gestured to the horses and gave him an innocent smile. "Five more minutes?"

He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Now, if he was thinner, I guess he'd probably look more menacing, but to put it simply, my good friend Sabir was a man who never refused his rice or pita bread. "And of your father?"

"Father can wait," I turned around and headed towards the last stall to my right. "I just need to finish mucking out this stall. I promise!"

"Horses, horses, horses," he grumbled under his breath as he walked away from me in defeat, "why could she not show this affection towards a man?" He grumbled more of his thoughts out loud, but I refused to hear them. He was always saying how a three and twenty year old woman should be married by that age. I suppose I give a completely new meaning to the word 'modesty'.

I turned to the stall and began mucking it out. Surely it was not such a sin for a woman to do this type of work, no? Or, maybe people consider it a sin since this was a _man's_ job.

Men. Sweaty, smelly, hairy, disgusting creatures that walk around and strut their weight all over the place. Give me a horse any day and I'll gladly roll in the hay with it over a man.

I shook my head from the mere thought of the male species and turned my attention over to Basil, my personal favorite horse. He was a beautiful Arabian, I had to admit; a dull shade of white with grey ears and a soft-as-silk grey mouth. He trotted up to me from his stall and whickered in delight as I ran my hand up and down his powerful forehead. Cooing to him, I pulled out a carrot slice from my pocket and the little monster greedily gobbled it down. That little glutton.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and laughed when he began nipping my forehead with his floppy lips and I nipped his forehead right back. See? Men don't deserve this sort of affection from me.

They certainly don't deserve kisses from me either, but I believe Basil does. It's how we bonded and became the best of friends: kissing. He'd tickle my mouth with his whiskery furry one, and I'd do the same thing to him as well (not to mention I'd make ridiculous noises). I knew that if Father came into the stables and saw me with Basil, he'd have all of my features checked and examined to make sure that I was truly his child, for my father was a very serious man. Unlike Sabir, he didn't tolerate me at all. Nope. If I were to make a mistake, _whack!_ right across the cheek, or _sssk!_ with the blade to the arm. I have faint scars to prove it, too.

But that's why Sabir is mainly in charge of me. Father is afraid of himself, especially when he is around me. I think it has something to do how my personality is so unbecoming for a woman and so alike to my mother's. Or, maybe it is because he feels guilty for putting my mother to death.

I'm not sure, but I sure am thankful for Sabir! He is my Father's best friend- ever since they were children- and has always looked out for me. Thanks to my plump guardian, I was not forced into marriage. Hooray, pass the kebab this way! Although my life is free, I have to admit, it is somewhat lonely. For twelve years, I've been working at the stables in Damascus, waking up every morning before the sun even came over the horizon to tend to horses. I only knew horses. I could tell you _everything_ about them; behavior, traits, diet, tack, riding, playing, breeding, and so on and so forth.

But yet, I know not the first thing of humans. I do not understand why the men look at me like I'm a failure. Allah smack them! If anything, I am a success! I learned from a very young age how to be responsible and how to treat others with respect (a shame no one else in Damascus knows how to do that...).

I pulled myself away from Basil and sighed. I had to get back home. Father was a grumpy man when his belly was not full, and the mere thought that he'd have a kitchen knife on his person if I came in that door late...

Saying goodbye to my friend, I hurried out of the stables.

Sure enough, once I entered the town square, everyone looked at me like I was some foreign species. Maybe I was.

Okay, it _is_ unlady-like for a woman to be wearing knee-high shalwars and a simple kameez with sandals, but it's blazing hot out here! I'm sorry, man with miles and miles of towel wrapped around him, but this woman likes ventilation.

At least the guards liked me, especially one by the name of Wadi. He barely saw twenty years yet, and still he was the nicest out of all of them. Shame on those stinky hairy beasts- and I'm not talking about horses.

He saw me making my way across the square, kicking up little clouds of dust, and he motioned me over to him. I sighed, knowing that I could never turn him down. He was one of the few people in this city that saw me as human.

"Asa! It's so good to see you- _augh!_" He wrinkled his nose and covered his face with his hands, much to my amusement. "_What is that smell? It... it smells like-"_

"Horse. It is horse, Wadi. I just got back from the stables."

He laughed and playfully punched me in the shoulder. "Aha! I should have known! You're always playing around with them and always at the stable. So, how is stable life anyways?"

I shoved him back and smirked at him. "Oh, it's absolutely satisfying. You know; cooped up all day long, feeding animals, walking said animals, bathing the beasts..." I shook my head and laughed at his fascinated expression. "Life is well lived!"

Wadi placed his hands on his hips and shook his head slowly at me, but he was still smiling, thank Allah. "Sabir seemed upset when he came past this way, you know," he raised a curious eyebrow at me, "any idea why?"

I took a step back, feigning offense, "Why, I do believe you are accusing me of-"

"_ASA!_"

I didn't need to turn around to know that voice. I'd know it anywhere.

Father.


	2. Chapter 2

So, I have decided to use this story as my "test story". I'm trying to find if I'm capable of different styles of writing. In 'Loving Hate', basically it's passive writing with a decent amount of maturity in it. In 'Maria, Maria, Let Down Your Hair'... yeah, that's just silly XD However for 'Talon's Bridle', I hope to create a character that is flawed without making her seem like a Mary-Sue, and I want the tone to be between mature and sarcastic. Yes, I'm slightly taking this story to heart, but 'Loving Hate' is going to receive more attention than this, definitely.

All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else is mine :3

And as always, lemme know what you think!

* * *

As if receiving a beating wasn't punishment enough, my ever so lovely father decided it'd 'teach me a lesson' by not allowing me to leave my room for the rest of tonight _and_ tomorrow. That meant I wouldn't be allowed to tend to the horses, meaning I'd receive a lecture from the barn owner. Ah, well, I suppose things could have been worse. For one thing, I feel awful that Wadi was dragged into this. I can't believe my father! He stormed right up to me and my friend and _demanded_ he removed his hands from me- which weren't even _on me!_ Incredible.

But Wadi was practically used to it. He and my father have butted heads, that's for sure. But even though my friend stood up for me and insisted that it was unnecessary for my paternal figure to act so vile to his only daughter, I was humiliated.

For one, I was dragged by my arm back to my house in the Middle District of Damascus while the other people roaming the streets stared and sneered at me. They were so used to seeing Asa being scolded by her father, it seemed...

And two, he accused me of attempting sexual intercourse while not having a husband. I knew that _he_ knew that he was completely wrong, but it was his method of imagining the most impossible circumstances out of thin air just to fuel his temper. And, let me tell you, his temper does not need that much fuel to spread like a wildfire and explode like boiling dung.

I sat on my bed in my room and sighed. Sabir wasn't usually home to keep me company, and, dare I say it, I'd do anything to see his chubby face shrivel up as he said, "_Ooo-uumma! _I told you so, Asa child!" I wished I had some company, but I soon found myself wishing otherwise as my older brother, Ghalib, just _had_ to burst into my room with a triumphant smirk on.

"So, Father tells me little sister still does not yet know how to behave herself in front of men!" He chuckled, his gleaming white teeth betraying his actual ugly personality. "Tell me, Asa, do you enjoy being a burden?"

I'd enjoy seeing you get punched. I frowned at him and crossed my arms over my chest. Ghalib was always trying to assert his authority over me; he took after Father like that. But, I was not the type of woman who'd back down from an idiot of a man. "If you've only come here to express your disapproval of my actions, Ghalib, perhaps you should look into a mirror and rant to the person you see then," I smirked when his face became red with anger. Oh, how easy it was to infuriate him- another one of Father's traits. "For that person has many flaws, I assure you."

He spat at the ground and shook his head slowly, as if he was trying to intimidate me. No, big brother, it only makes you look like you ate some bad meat. And Allah knows how you spend your money. "You'd be wise to hold your tongue in a man's presence."

I tilted my head to the side and gave him the most innocent expression I could. "But, Ghalib," my eyes slowly turned toward the floor, then up to my brother's own angry eyes. "I do not see a man here, though, only a _dog_."

"_FATHER!_" He turned on his heel and stormed down the stairs to alert our father of what had just been said. Oh, fortune _must_ favor me today. I sighed, readying myself for the beatings yet to come when I heard him stomping his way up the stairwell...

* * *

But, that was last night, and today is a brand new morning that I was not allowed out to enjoy. Wearing a new pair of knee-highed shalwars and a loose kameez, I once again sat on my bed, pondering what I should do. Sure, I could open my window and call out to the neighboring boys to help me plan a way to escape this pris- I mean, my house- but that meant I'd have to rely on the _male _species. I considered myself above that, so my damned pride kept me from forming a plan.

There was a nasty bruise on my tanned arm, still fresh from when my father had slammed his fist into it as hard as he could last night. I suppose I did deserve it, even if Ghalib was the equivalent to an ass' ass. My oldest brother, Rami, would never have responded to my antics in such a way. He would just laugh, pat me on the shoulder, and take me for a walk around our house and we'd just talk. He was the only man that I had ever learned to respected, particularly because he reminded me of my mother- how such a kind and loving woman such as her ended up with my brute Father, I'll never know, nor do I care to know. Speaking of my mother... it... it causes something inside of me to twinge with pain.

So, moving on from that joyful topic, I made my way downstairs to see if there was anything I could do around the house. Surely Father had some sort of idea lodged in his brain on how to make me show 'respect'. He'd probably make me get on my hands and knees and scrub the floors until my back broke, not that he _hadn't_ done something like that before...

I sighed when I realized I was the only one left in the house. Ghalib was probably off with his friends, causing Hell in the marketplace, chasing women, spending money on the brothel, and Father was most certainly at work. He was a merchant, and he was quite on good terms with Abu'l Noqoud, which meant a great deal of money came our way. I rarely received anything from Father besides physical assault; it was Ghalib who was usually cherished and pampered by Father. He'd come home one day, a smile on his powerful face, _walk right past me_, go straight to Ghalib, and practically shove the purse full of gold into his greedy hands and order him to spend his money as he saw fit.

I rolled my eyes thinking about it. Oh, Asa, how did you end up in this forsaken family...

Shaking my head, I walked out to the courtyard. There was always _one_ friendly face in this house..

My ever faithful Sloughi, Shamim, or Shama for short, was laying down underneath the shade of a palm tree, enjoying the semi-feeling of warmth and the breeze at the same time. I smiled once I saw the dog. He was a gift to me from my mother; she said whenever I felt lonely, all I had to do was speak to Shama and he'd listen to every word I had to say. So far, he did listen to everything I said, even if he couldn't understand me, I knew he cared. He lifted his jet black head and lolled his tongue out happily as he saw me. Aww, how cute he was! His entire body was obsidian, besides his paws, which were white. It made him seem as if he accidentally stepped into flour.

He elegantly walked over to me and placed a paw affectionately on my leg. I reached down and scratched him on his knowledge bump. Mainly people thought dogs were stupid and petty thieves, but nope, not Shama. He was my friend, and quite intelligent. I taught him a few tricks here and there, mostly tricks to annoy Father. He never did get angry at Shama for some reason, and I'm pretty positive it is because he fears that he would anger my mother's spirit and cause her to rise from the dead. He is afraid of scolding a dog, yet he has no shame for abusing his daughter. Mmm, everything makes _so_ much sense now...

"Shama, how about we go for a walk, huh?" I cupped his face in my hands and scruffed his cheeks. He squirmed and lapped my face up with his long tongue. I giggled and kissed him in between the eyes. "Yes, I know my honey melon wants to take a walk, doesn't he?"

And there's Asa breaking the rules! Aha, as if it is _that_ unheard of.

In a moment, I found myself walking along Damascus with Shama trotting contentedly beside me, occasionally rubbing his head against my leg. I saw how most of the women shook their heads at me and began gossiping with one another about 'the _girl_ who still was not _matured_', and I did my best to control my resentment towards them. I _tried_, but failed, and I earned a scowling Sabir.

He appeared from the crowd and shook his head, but he held that faint trace of a smile on his lips. Ahh, finally! Someone who is able to laugh when women have cabbages thrown at them! Although, the merchant _did_ look like he was about to call the guards...

Sabir wrapped his arm around my shoulder, still shaking his head. "Oh, Asa, child, what are we going to do with you.."

I shrugged. "You could send me to mother's homeland."

He sighed and looked at me with what seemed to be like sorrow in his eyes. Strange, he was never one to be so upset. "I only wish you could be there; you'd at least get along with the other women, and I am almost certain that you would find a man who was made for you."

Snorting, I squirmed out of his shrug and shoved my hands into my shalwars' pockets. "I do not need a man, Sabir."

"I know, you're quite capable of looking after yourself, but Asa.. how do you hope to pass down your lineage?"

"I'll leave it to Ghalib to do that."

"Asa, he already has bastard children being born- maybe even as we speak. Wouldn't it be nice to have something to call _yours_ and only yours, child?"

I puckered my lips out, thinking over his words. A suddenly brilliant conclusion came to mind. "But, Shama and Basil are _mine_ and only mine, Sabir! I need not anything more!"

He slouched and sighed. "_Ooo-uumma,_ Asa! You are truly impossible..."

I smirked and bowed slightly. "I know, Sabir, but I just can't help it. I feel..." I frowned and looked to the ground. There were many people around us- who am I kidding? Like I actually even care what they think about me- "I feel as if there is so much energy inside of me!" I skipping around Sabir and hopped up onto a crate, swinging my legs over the edge like a child. "There's just so much I want to do- so much that I want to see! Staying in Damascus all of my life is like taking water from a flower! I just- I _won't have it!_"

Oh, and did I attract a crowd or what? People were murmurring to another, some even suggesting to take me to a doctor, while others who knew who I was shook their heads and carried on. Pah, they could never understand, anyways.

Why they were so content on staying in one place for the rest of their lives, who can say?

"Asa, please," Sabir took my hand and led me away from the staring crowd. "Attracting this much attention, _especially when you are supposed to be inside_, cannot be good to either of us. Think of what your father would say if he found you disobeying his orders-"

"It wouldn't be the first, Sabir, and besides," I stood in front of him and smiled gently at my plump friend. "I've taken his beatings before. It isn't like it's anything new to me."

"But you've never taken Ghalib's beatings before, have you?"

I cocked an eyebrow and shook my head, the corner of my mouth twisted in confusion. "No, what would make you ask such a thing?"

"Ghalib is a man," he narrowed his eyes at me, recalling how Father had informed him that I insulted my brother by saying he was a dog, "and you are a spring blossom amongst a field of weeds."

"You aren't saying..."

"Asa, my dear, I am simply saying that one day if your brother comes home too drunk to even know which end to place over his chamberpot, he may not even know that you are his sister and mistake you as a whore." He took my hand and began leading me back to my house. Seems like adventure time was over, and even Shama was disappointed.

"He wouldn't, though..." I coughed and looked at Sabir hopefully. "Right? He wouldn't force himself on his own sister. Even that pig has enough common sense to know who I am even if drunk... right?"

Sabir only looked at me, and I didn't need an answer to know the truth.

I just prayed this day would be over with so that I could visit Basil tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Still don't really know where I'm going with this story. I shall name it Guinea Pig, because it is my test subject XD

Chapter 6 of Loving Hate is almost done, should be up tomorrow evening or even sooner. As usual, lemme know what you think on the chapter! :D

All original characters belong to Ubisoft.

* * *

Dinner that night was worse than usual. Usual meaning that Ghalib was out of the house eating his supper at a brothel, and then afterwards, treating himself to some cheap flesh. Ugh, that pig.

But, tonight, Ghalib was present, much to my annoyance, and he and Father were deep in conversation over 'merchant business'. Father was clearly disappointed that business had gone down over the year, and it irked me to no end when he could not realize _why_. Well, when you have relatively useless items that are priced at a ridiculous amount, it doesn't exactly take one skilled in the arts of economy to realize that _your prices are too high_. But, I refused to say this, for I knew that I'd receive a beating for opening my mouth at the table.

I could not even _eat_ while they were sitting there. I had to serve them first and wait until they were done. I swear that Ghalib was taking his sweet old time chewing his lamb, _I swear it_. He kept sneering at me and sending me glares across the table when Father was not looking at me. Ohhhh, how much I wanted to sock him one in the mouth at that moment!

Luckily for me, Sabir was sitting next to me, and whenever my anger was just about to spew from my body, he'd put a reassuring hand on my thigh underneath the table and give me a small smile. Allah bless this man!

"So, _Asa,_" Ghalib said my name as if it was some sort of joke, "tell us about your day. I'm sure Father and I would love to hear what you did on this _beautiful_ afternoon in Damascus, no?" He turned to look at Father and they both smirked at each other. Yeah, keep smirking, ugly.

I looked down to the table and kept my head low. Usually I was defiant and disobedient in front of Father, and although Sabir didn't mind my antics, Ghalib would not withstand his sire to deal with such a disgrace as myself. "Well," I kept my voice barely above a whisper. It wasn't that I was afraid of them, I just was not in the mood for another pounding. The bruise on my arm was beginning to swell. "I stayed inside as you requested and tended to my chores."

"Your chores being...?" Ghalib narrowed his eyes at me and raised an eyebrow. How dare he demand responses from me in such a manner! I was his _sister_, not his _slave!_

Clearing my throat, I replied, "My chores being washing the linen, the floors, the cookware, the rooms, and tending to dinner. I assume you're enjoying it?" I eyed my brother with a slight spark. Father did not catch on to the hidden insult, for now Ghalib was devouring his food as if he was a starved animal. His looks could certainly pass for barbaric.

Even if my Father was an oaf, Ghalib was not, and sensed the insult. Sniffing, he put his fork down and eyed the lamb. Haha, brother, I know I prepare lamb unlike any other, don't try to hide it, you hairy, sad excuse of a person. "I see, _woman_. Bending down to be considered a female must be a treat, hm?" Don't you even go there... "I'm sure you'd thoroughly enjoy laying down and leaning back on your bottom just as much, no?"

_That ignorant, two faced bastard!_

"Only if she knows what is good for her," Father shook his head at me and continued eating his share of the meal. Sabir looked nervously back and forth between me and Ghalib, his grip on my thigh becoming tighter.

I didn't even want to eat anymore when they had finally finished with dinner. I was alone at the table, but Sabir had never left me. He stayed at my side and shook his head. "I am sorry, Asa child. Do not listen-"

" 'to what Ghalib has to say, he is but a foolish donkey', I know, Sabir," I finished the thought for him and rested my head in my hands. "_How_ is he related to me, again?"

Sabir took my hand in his and gave me a soft squeeze. "Tell you what, how about tomorrow you and I take a walk around the souk, hm? We can do some shopping, get something to eat-"

"My work shift with the horses will be twice as long, thanks to today being stolen from me." I gave him a small apologetic smile. "Thank you, though, Sabir. Without you, I think I'd have lost my sanity a long time ago."

"You already have, my child."

Oh, indeed I did.

* * *

To just prove how out of this world I was, I snuck out of the house that night. The atmosphere in that place was too suffocating, and I _knew_ Ghalib was basking in triumph from dinner. Oh, just go fall off a watchtower.

It was fairly simple for me to sneak out of my home; there was just this _lovely_ tree right outside my window that I could climb down, though with some difficulty. I wasn't exactly blessed with athletic finesse, I'll be honest, but I had acquired a knack at horse riding for obvious reasons.

Truth be told, I was still baffled of what Sabir had told me previously in the day while we were taking a walk around Damascus. '_You are a spring blossom amongst a field of weeds.'_ Donkey piss.

I took after my Father when it came to looks. I'm not saying I was as ugly as Ghalib- _that_ was just unsightly, but I wasn't one of those bellydancers that attended ceremonies to entertain the onlookers. My hair was short and wavy, barely reaching the nape of my neck. I liked the look, though, even if just one look at me told all the other women 'yep, that's Asa, alright'. Those girls probably never worked as hard as I do. Not that I was envious of that, oh no, I was envious for the color of their hair. I can't even remember the natural color of my hair; it was always matted with dirt and grime from working in the stables. I'm pretty sure it was a dark shade, though, as was everyone's hair in the Middle East. But, gosh, thinking about it reminded me of the last time I had thoroughly washed.

Let's just say it was a long time ago.

Finally making my way down the tree, I landed with a small _fwump_ in the dirt below. And thus, Asa Farajian jogged merilly away from her house and into the Arabian night. Hah, I make this sound like a fairytale.

* * *

For the most part, it was quiet at this time of evening. There were a few merchants left at their stalls closing up shop, and even fewer people roaming the street. I didn't mind though, I enjoyed this peace. Just listening to the night- what's that you hear? Nothing.

The sound of nothing was music to my ears, a melody that I'd dance rhythmically to any day of the week. However, my brief moment of peace was interrupted rather quite unexpectedly as I rounded a corner.

It was the sound of fighting. Fists connecting with flesh, to be exact. I didn't dare enter the alleyway that I was next to, that was where the noise was coming from. Ahh, what was it Sabir used to tell me when I heard fighting...? He either told me to run to the guards or to help out the poor soul that was receiving a beating. Baffled, I merely stood and listened.

"I'll talk, I'll talk," the man that obviously lost the brawl was breathing heavily now, his nose in a peculiar angle. That couldn't be healthy. "I have no interest in dying for him. His coin... is not worth my life."

"A wise decision." I inwardly gasped at the sound of the other man's voice- well, I presumed he was another man, seeing as how he sounded so different from the defeated one.

His voice was raspy, and I took the risk of peeping around the corner and saw the look of terror in his eyes. I quickly looked away again. "What is it that you want?" My thoughts exactly.

"I've business with the Merchant King." Abu'l Nuquod? What could _he_ possibly want with _him_? Merchants just didn't go beating up poor men to gain audience with The King, that was just wrong.

"Hah! Good luck with that; he rarely leaves his chambers!" I've heard the same from my Father. He often complained how Abu'l would never speak to him in person- in fact, that's what the conversation he was having with Ghalib during dinner was about.

"Why? Is he afraid?" Just the tone of this man's voice made my insides curl and shrivel... something was telling me to walk away right then and there, yet I could not move my body. I _had_ to listen.

"Not fear- hate. He hates himself as he hates the people he pretends to serve," Oh, really? That's interesting and not surprising. Sabir often told me how he had little doubt that the Merchant King was a corrupt individual. This just proves the chub right. "... locks himself away in his personal quarters out of shame."

"He can't stay hidden forever." This man... I had to look. I had to warn _someone_ of him in the city.

"No; those celebrations of his... he comes out to speak- to look down upon the people, a sense of belonging, I suppose, however brief."

I looked.

And what I saw confused me.

There were shadows being cast over the man's clothes, but from what I could make out, he wore an odd robe that split into two at the ends. It was completely white, and-

"What's wrong with him that he would hide like this?"

"You'll see. Now, let me go." Please, let him go..."

"Let you go?" His voice was the definition of mockery. This man only proved my point correct of the male species. "So you can tell him of my plan?"

"I won't say a thing!"

"No... you won't."

I opened my mouth in shock at what I saw next. He... he... it looked like he jammed his left palm into the man's side, but contact such as that can't leave a gaping bloody hole in a person...

'_Oh, Allah, preserve me...'_ I shook my head fiercely and ran away from the crime scene. I needed to tell Sabir about this and fast. He'd be the only one to take me seriously, whereas my brother and father would merely laugh at me.


	4. Chapter 4

Mmmmm, this be chapter 4! So, I still don't know where I'm going with this. I really have no idea.

And to answer one of my reviewers, I'm not sure if I am or am not giving this my best effort. It's fun to write, I enjoy it, but I honestly cannot say if it is my best. I mean, the best written work I've ever done was answering an essay one of my professors gave me, and the prompt was: 'Why?'

Hah, anyways. I'm making this story up as I go, no outline, no guidance, nada. Just me, my hands, and my eyes looking at the computer screen while listening to A*Teens (yeah, I'm a dork). I'm even giving my editors a break for once and editting this myself since it's so short.

All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else is my pwoperty :3

Review and tell me what you think!

"But, _Sabir!_" I whined and rocked my head back and forth desperately. Why couldn't he believe me?

"Come now, Asa, child, I am sure it was just all a dream," he waved his hand in dismissal and I sat on his bed that he was laying down on. Okay, I knew it was a bit rude to go running into someone's room, jump on their bed to wake them up, and dump water on them when that didn't work, but it was an emergency! I was a _witness!_

"But I wasn't dreaming! It was all real! I saw it!" Gosh, I even sounded childish to my own ears. But, it was true, and Sabir wouldn't listen. He was probably dreaming about pita bread when I woke him.

"Nevermind this dream of yours- stop jumping on the bed, child!" He groaned and swatted me away with his hand. "Now shoo! Go back to your bedroom and sleep before your father comes in here!"

So, that's how it was going to be, huh? Threatening with the ol' "your father's going to come in here" trick? Fine then, I won't tell you when the wine merchant is coming back from his vacation then.

I groaned in defeat but did as he said. I walked back to my room annoyed as ever. I could always tell Ghalib- _what_ am I _saying_? He'd poke fun at me and tell me to go wash the dishes and to make him a pita-wrap sandwich. I stopped at my bedroom door and closed my eyes. I could tell Shama; he _always_ listens. The furry thing was always looking for an excuse to enter the house anyways...

I went to bed whispering what I had seen to my dog who was happily hidden underneath the covers, his cute little nose sticking out of the sheets. At least one of us would sleep tonight.

The following day was busy, crowded, tense, and way too hot. And I mean _way too hot_. It was bad enough that I had to muck out stalls until my arms were about to fall off. I think my hands are two giant blisters. Father and Ghalib were annoyed with me that morning. My brother was having one of his "unproductive" moments. And no, I don't mean that he couldn't find anything to do. Rather, he couldn't find _anyone_ to do because the brothels were closed that day.

It was genius, really: close the brothels the day before the Merchant King's grand feast so that when the celebration was over, the hormone-crazed and desperate men would swarm into the stinky saloons and stink it up even further with their sperm and sweat. Fabulous!

And that meant Father would be wanting to get rid of me in the house so that he could invite all of his lady friends over and have a 'word' and a 'moment' with them. I made the mistake of actually staying at the house a few years back when there was a horse racing convention. What I saw... my poor virgin eyes suffered tremendously. I can't even picture my father and mother coupling, so to see him holding down a woman while he, err... relieved... his um... desires... was unnerving. I ran out of the house like I was being chased by the entire Crusader army and stormed into the stables and cried my eyes out in Basil's mane.

See what the male race does to a woman?

Speaking of Basil, he was thoroughly annoyed with me for not visiting him the previous morning. Well, okay, Basil, stick your rear end at me for all I care. I know that once I pull our a carrot and a sugar cube you'll act all buddy-buddy with me. And I did just that, and what did he do? He started whinnying and nipping my pockets for more. Pain in my groiness.

I finished my chores in record time, go Asa, go! But then I had to stay for an _hour_ to listen to the stable manager lecture me on 'responsibility'. Really? Are you serious? I feed your horses, I groom your horses, I clean their stalls, I repair the equipment- and you want to speak to me on responsibility? Shoot, I even cover for you when you're at the brothel!

"... I _never_ want you to skip another day, do you understand me?" I nodded blankly, barely listening to him speak to me. He was a scrawny man, gangly limbs and greasy hair to complete the package. Oh, but who am I to complain about greasy hair? I mean, look at me! I look like I took a bath in Ghalib's sweat when he comes back from his fifteen minute running exercise. Haha, yeah, that's his annual exercise, mind you.

After that dreadful hour was over, I booked it out of there and practically screamed in relief when I was once again at the townsquare. No more horses for the day! And although I smelled like a barn, at least I was out of it. And although the women glared at me and pointed, I had me, myself, and I for the rest of the day to tend to. Not that I could buy anything, I didn't have money on me, but I could walk and listen around to the latest gossip. Maybe I'd even learn something about the man from last night.

I was still angry at Sabir, though. He usually listened to what I had to say and believed me. Did it really sound that make-believe and immature? Perhaps the way I went about it- after all, he was angry when I threw the bucket of water at him. I would be too if someone did that to me and woke me up. I'd probably jump on their back and bite their ears off, or at least try to. Short hair, short freedom, short legs. Short, short, short.

I take after mother like that, though. She was small and petite, but downright beautiful. Sabir told me that I have her hair, but I can't tell. I got a severe case of O' de Grease and a little thing I like to call _bedhead_. I wasn't even allowed a comb. Sabir bought me one during a holiday, blessed man. However, when Father discovered it in my room, he accused me of stealing it and had me return it to a random merchant and apologize. And then he beat me in front of the man to prove to the vendor that Asa Farajian would never, _never_ steal again in her life. Thank you for degrading a four and ten year old girl like that, Father, thank you. A simple 'don't do it again' would have been sufficient, even though I didn't even steal it. Oh, and Ghalib's look of giddiness and excitement...

I swear, my punishments arouse the pig. I told Sabir that one time and he merely coughed and walked away from me. So, I took that as a correct way to view things, and I could never look at my brother the same way again. Not that I _wanted_ to look at the ugly poor excuse of a human- not to mention stinky and hairy.

Anyways, I made my way over to the souk to see what was on sale. I stayed behind the crowds, peeking through the swarm of people now and then to see what was on offer. Of course the most beautiful of silks, linen and jewelery were on sale that I could never afford to purchase were there. _Of course_. It was a constant reminder of my status in life. If Father wanted to marry me off, wouldn't he buy me impressive gifts to draw a man's attention to me? He never did that. He would brag to all of his friends of how I was not worth anyone's time. And of course they lost interest as soon as he said that.

Asa Farajian didn't want to get married, no way, not ever, not happening. I am happy being a single woman.

I sighed when I saw a necklace with a warm brown stone set in the middle bordered by a gold ring. It was beautiful. And It would go with my eyes so well. Too bad, Asa, keep walking.

I smiled when I saw Wadi out of his guard uniform. Today must be his day off, what a pleasant surprise! I jogged up behind him and grabbed his shoulders. The poor boy jumped in surprise and raised his fist as he turned around and swung it at me. He stopped the assault when it was barely a centimeter from my face and sighed when he saw it was me.

"Asa, don't scare me like that! You know I've been trained to hit and ask questions later!"

I giggled and playfully punched him in the shoulder. "Oh, I know, I know, I just wanted something to cheer me up! And what better than seeing your face?" I mocked the look he had on his face seconds before with my mouth gaping open and my eyes bulging out of my head. He laughed, and I did as well. "So, what brings you to the souk?"

"I can ask you the same. Your Father's done punishing you, then?" He nudged my arm with his elbow and motioned for me to walk to him. I happily complied.

"Aha, we both know that he'll _never_ be done with that," I grumbled under my breath. "But come on, answer me! Why are you here?"

"You don't want me to be here, do you?" He sighed dramatically and covered his face with his hands. "You hurt me deeply, Asa."

"Oh, grow some manhood, would you?" I bumped his arm with my own and laughed when his face turned red. "Are you buying something for someone?"

"Well..." He looked down and everywhere besides my face. "Y-yeah, I guess I am.."

I brightened up and smiled. "Aww, really? Is it for a _girl_?"

"M-maybe.." He muttered underneath his breath and looked at me bashfully. "But, it's a surprise for her. So you can't tell anyone, okay?"

"I swear on my life," I put my hand over my heart and gave him a serious nod. "On behalf of Asa Farajian,"

He laughed and his shy trance immediately evaporated. Oh, I love how I can cheer him up. "Alright, then-"

"Asa?" We both turned to the man walking up to us. Sabir was carrying a basket full of bread. "There you are- oh, hello, Wadi, I take it today is your vacation day?"

The boy nodded and smiled at Sabir. They always got along from the start. "Yes, sir! I was just walking Asa and showing her the different items available in the souk, if that is alright with you, of course."

Sabir nodded and smiled at me. "I have no problem with such a thing, but I'm going to have to steal her from you, my boy. I've much to discuss with this missy," He raised an eyebrow at me, but he remained smiling. So, I wasn't in trouble. Hooray.

Wadi nodded and gave me a brief pat on my arm and smiled. "I'll see you later, then! Bye!" And then he walked away with a spring in his step to the stall I was previously marveling over. I smiled and turned my attention to Sabir.

"So, what is it? I'm not in for another beating, am I?"

"Oh, no, Asa, I merely wanted to speak to you about tomorrow. Come, walk with me," he jerked his head to the side and I took his arm in my hand as we walked out of the souk. "Tomorrow is the Merchant King's feast, as you know already. Your Father and brother have been invited to join." He looked at me for some sort of reaction, but my face remained placid. Of course Father and Gha-piggy were going to be invited. It'd only be appropriate. "Well, while they're out of the house tomorrow, I was thinking..." his voice faded off and he gave me a toothy grin. "We might be able to have a picnic on the cliff outside of Damascus. Perhaps even do a little exploring?"

I smiled and pretended to ponder over his suggestion. Pah, he already knew the answer from me. I'd love to! "Like when I was little?"

"Like when you were little," he chuckled and took my hand in his. "Or, we could do something else-"

"Sabir." I stopped and crossed my arms over my chest sticking one of my hips out. "Are you seriously asking me if I want to do something else?" I raised an eyebrow at him and gave him a doubtful look. He merely sighed and shook his head. He was still smiling, though. Gosh, I've never seen him smile so much in one day.

"Then it's-"

We were suddenly stopped by a group of men wearing luxurious robes made out of the finest fur. I frowned and looked up to Sabir. Did he know them? Because I surely didn't know them, and I didn't do anything wrong today, and I doubt Sabir stole that huge basket of bread.

"Would you be Sabir Farajian?" Um, no, he wouldn't. He's just Sabir, Farajian is _my_ last name, dumbweed.

"That I am," Sabir frowned when he saw the men scowling at my appearance; 'tattered' shalwars (they're kneehighs, you hairy ape!) and a sleeveless tunic. "Do we strike any importance?"

"That you do." He all but shoved a piece of rolled up parchment into Sabir's free hand. "Thank you for your time, sir," He briefly swept his gaze over to me. It only lasted a second before he turned away, but I saw that disgusting smile spread across his lips. No, I am _not_ a whore, get it right out of your head, you burnt crab.

"How odd," Sabir shrugged and lead me away by the hand once more to a bench where we both sat down.

"What is it, Sabir?" I craned my head over his shoulder as he began reading the paper. "Am I in trouble?"

"Oh, no, my dear," he shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "But, it seems we cannot have our picnic tomorrow." He looked up at me and I sighed sadly. I really wanted a picnic... However, a smile slowly appear on his face. "Rather, we'll be dining with the Merchant King tomorrow at the feast."


	5. Chapter 5

I have a VAGUE idea what I'm doing with this story. Very vague, very vague, but I've figured out Asa's purpose. Her purpose is practice for Damiel's Journals in Loving Hate. For those of you who read Loving Hate as well as this, you probably noticed that Asa and Damiel have a similar personality. It ish shupposed to be like that :3 She is my guinea pig. Mwah.

Cheers to me for editting (yeah, I get zero credit along with zero reviews...)

All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else is mine.

* * *

I felt a bit like a pack-mule as I hauled the bread basket Sabir had with him back to our house. The man was practically skipping with joy from being invited to dine with the Merchant King- and let me tell you, it isn't a pretty site to see a fat man's rolls jiggle up and down through his robes. Eugh.

He kept murmuring in wonder, saying how fortunate we were to be invited and whatnot. Me? I honestly thought it was bad luck. I wanted that picnic, but _no_, I was being forced to attend some floozy feast with my Father and Ghalib. I wish Sabir would just tear the invitation up and let it fly with the wind and pretend he never received it. He _could_ do that- couldn't he?

But, who was I kidding? It wasn't every day that Sabir attended events like this- in fact, he _never_ received half the credit he deserved. Who was the man that saved the day when the merchants needed a competitor in their Pita Bread Eating Contest? Who was the man that saved the day when the horses had the runs from noon 'til the next morning? Alright, wait, no, _I _was the one who helped out with that, but still. Sabir should receive more praise and rewards. I suppose that meant I was being a little selfish in not wanting to go...

I sighed when he pulled open the door to our house and ushered me in. First thing I did was plop the basket on the kitchen table. I swear, he'd need a horse and wagon to carry that! Just how many breadrolls did he even buy?

"Looks to me like you're well prepared if the animals miraculously die and deprive us of meat," I said as I gave him an annoyed glance. He merely chuckled at my irritation, but then stopped as he sniffed the air. He followed his nose until he was smelling my arm, practically drilling his nostrils into my armpit.

"Eugh, Asa! Child, when was the last time you had a proper bath?" He recoiled as he got a good whiff of my underarms when I raised my arm high in the air, just for him.

I laughed despite the embarrassed blush spreading across my cheeks. "You remember when Father was having the realtors over for dinner, and he wanted me to be 'presentable'?"

He frowned as he recalled the event. Yeah, some realtors they were. He was trying to sell me into slavery, I swear! Lucky for me Sabir was near and came to the rescue. _Another_ thing he should be credited with. Bless this man. "That was four months ago!"

"Oh, really? Was it?" I crossed one arm while the other stroked my chin in thought. Hah, would ya look at that! Four months since I rubba-dub-dubbed. I shrugged and smiled at him. "What's another month gonna hurt?"

He shook his head sadly, and before I knew it, I was being yanked out the door, across the street, into another house that had a sweet smell wafting around in the air, ushered by some woman that I didn't even know (but I could tell she never wanted to know me for her nose practically bled from smelling me) into a hot steamy bath, and then having oils and herbal creams being scrubbed into my hair. Oh, wow, thank you, Sabir. It's not like this bath will even do anything. Four months are going to pass by before you know it, and I'd smell like steaming dung once more. Although, I did appreciate his attempt at being nice (although this bath girl was scrubbing my head a little too hard for my liking).

I rolled my eyes as she clicked her tongue in disapproval and as she rolled her eyes in disgust at how dirty I was. Sorry, beautiful, but I'm a worker, and workers get dirty. I bet you'd be fawning over a man if he was sweating, but Heavens forbid a woman to sweat. It's sweat. We all produce it. What's the big deal if a girl was slick and sticky with perspiration?

By the time she was done cleaning me, the water was no longer clear with white bubbles floating in it, but a murky grey color without a single cheerful bubble. Least _I _was clean, although looking at the water was beginning to depress me. I shuddered thinking about what I was standing in and quickly evacuated the tub and dried myself off with one of the towels the woman handed to me. She eyed me critically though, and although I _do_ believe all men and woman are interested in the opposite sex, she was making me uncomfortable.

And so I stared back. I dropped the towel and stared at her directly in the eye. I saw how her eyes snaked from my head down to my breasts, then to my hips and legs and then back up to my head to glare at me. Yes, I am a woman, thank you for checking.

"You're that Farajian girl, _aren't you_?" Oh, beau-ti-ful. She had a nasily voice to go along with her sour personality. Clearly the Lord smiled down upon her.

I raised an eyebrow. "You're that whore I see on the street, _aren't you_?" I mimicked the way she spoke and smirked when she looked absolutely insulted. Well, that's what you get when you judge me before you know me. But, now that you know me, lady, can you kindly leave the room so that I can get changed without having your tiny little beady eyes watching me like a hawk?

"Your father is that merchant, isn't he? The one that owns the spice stalls?"

I nodded slowly and glared at her. "What of it?"

She sneered at me and smirked in the most disturbing way. Alright, you want to know what she looked like? Picture a rat with one little sharp tooth sticking out of its mouth with narrowed eyes. There you have her! "I'll be sure that he knows of his daughter leaving the house without his permission."

Now that I was looking at her hard and clearly, she _did_ seem familiar... Aha! She was one of the girls that flaunted over Ghalib and absolutely adored his curly locks. She said he was _cute. Cute!_ My brother was the epitome of something I like to call REPULSIVE. You need to get your eyes checked, lady, and quickly.

I didn't even bother answering her. I just jerked my head to the door and gave her an amused smile as she huffed and marched her snooty self out of the room. I sighed once she left and I began dressing myself into my now clean tunic and barn-essence-free knee-highed shalwars. I practically skipped over to the large mirror in the room and stared wide-eyed at myself in the mirror. Wow, my face was olive toned and not mud brown? This must be a trick of the light, a dream, a mirage, a-

"Nope, that's me," I winced as I pinched my arm. I plucked the comb from the countertop and began brushing my short hair out. I didn't look half bad, if I did say so myself. And I finally knew my natural hair color. Light brown. By Allah, I don't think I can endure another realization today!

* * *

Thankfully, though, I was back in my house, snuggled in my warm cozy blankets and fast asleep before I knew it. Sabir had smiled and even blushed slightly when he saw me emerge from the bathhouse all clean and smelling lovely. I didn't understand it, though. I wasn't gorgeous, I wasn't even beautiful or pretty, I was just me: Asa Farajian. I only inherited my mother's hair, but everything else was Father. Alright, I _do_ have mother's nose as well, but still. Father's eyes, Father's chin, Father's cheeks... Father, Father, Father. Oh good grief, I even have his eyebrows!

And then sleeping time was over as Sabir bustled into my room like a mother hen clucking at her chicks, got me out of bed, and began ordering me around, telling me to go brush up and wear decent clothes. He was already wearing his regal attire- what a wakeup call! He was wearing a bright baby blue robe with a fur belt as his sash. I personally thought he looked like a giant puddle with a wet kitten hissing in it, but I didn't tell him that.

But before I could put my best clothes on, I had to tend to the horses. I was grateful for the chore, though. I needed to see Basil, and perhaps I'd see Wadi on my way to the stables. I sure could use his support in all of this. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the feast today, and seeing my friend's smile and hearing his encouraging words would boost my mood, definitely.

Basil whickered softly to me as I entered the barn. Awh, he decided to take a roll during the night! He was covered in hay and happily swishing his tail. By God, I swear the little monster does this on purpose! I grumbled, but retrieved the brush from the tack box and began rubbing him down. Yeah, keep looking at me with that angelic face, you aren't fooling anyone! I know you're Satan with a cute face, you. The other horses impatiently stamped their hooves, but I stuck my tongue out at them. Sorry, boys, you're going to have to wait, because when Basil wants to be pampered, _he wants to be pampered_.

I rubbed my favorite horse's forehead with my palm once I was done brushing all the hay off of him. He nipped at my sleeves, searching for his usual carrot. Perhaps he and Sabir have something in common; they both love food. Hmm.. I'll definitely need to look into that...

Sighing, I pulled out the carrot hidden in my shirt and held it out to him while his lips greedily devoured it. He gave me another look, as if asking for more. I simply shook my head and snickered at him. Nuh uh, horsey, we both know you don't want to end up fat. I gave him a small kiss on his muzzle, then turned my attention to the other horses and began mucking their stalls out. It was tedious, I'll tell you that, but it's a very good way to develop a person's arm muscles. That is, if you were a woman who wanted muscle, though. I don't understand why they're all obsessed with staying slim and trim. Personally, I think it's unattractive when a woman's body is disporoportional and scrawny. I've got meat on my bones, and although I don't have a lot of flesh in the upper region, I know how to pull my weight with some sense of pride. Until Ghalib feels like stepping on my pride like a doormat.

I lifted my head up when I heard someone enter the barn. Sure enough, a customer! He led his horse down the aisle towards me. I immediately stopped what I was doing to tend to his animal, but I frowned slightly when I looked at the man's outfit. He was wearing a white robe with leather straps buckled here and there and was wearing two leather gauntlets. I took a small glance at my own short shalwars and shrugged. Who was I to complain about peculiar clothing?

His hood hid most of his face from me, but I didn't really care. He probably wore it to hide his bald head and unsightly features. Men- they're either taken or ugly.

I held my hand out for the reigns, but he simply walked past me and led the horse to its own stall. I raised an eyebrow in confusion and let my eyes follow him. What- huh- wait...!

He began tending to his own horse! By Heavens, something must be happening to the world! Since when did a customer actually take responsibility into their own hands? Oh good Lord, 'tis a miracle! I smirked and continued my chores with the other horses while he pampered his own darling horse. But after a while, when he was done, he closed the stall door and walked up to me. I frowned and I must have looked absolutely baffled as he placed a gold coin into my palm. I stared at the money with wide eyes. Customers weren't supposed to pay the barn girl directly! They were supposed to pay the barn _owner_ and then he would pay said barn girl!

I raised my head to right out refuse the money, but he was already gone. I just stood there, blinking like a fool.

I quickly finished my chores and sprinted out of the barn, hoping to find Wadi on my way home. The streets were bustling with guards for the feast, and it was proving rather difficult to locate my friend. I didn't have all day, though. I had to get back home before Sabir would start with his '_Ooo-uumma!'_s all over again. Though, it was amusing to hear him bellow.

'_Wadi, where in the desert are you?'_ I groaned and puckered my lips out in disappointment. He was nowhere to be found, that goat. '_Probably visiting that girl he likes,'_ I shrugged and turned on my heel to return to my house. Thankfully, when I stepped into the kitchen, Father and Ghalib weren't present. In fact, Sabir had me know that they left for the feast already. Splendid, just splendid!

My plump friend ushered me into my room and demanded me to change into suitable clothing. I grinned but complied. After all, I think I'd be thrown out of the party if I arrived in my barn clothes.

I pulled on my best pair of shalwars, and they were the full length kind, not my half-knits. I pulled on a reddish brown kameez that went along fairly well with my faded gold shalwars. There weren't any designs in it. I wasn't that important to Father for him to waste an extra coin to buy me a pretty outfit.

I sighed and looked at the girl in the mirror. My hair was a mess, thanks to Basil nipping and blowing at it. I practically yanked the brush on my dresser through the brown strands. My poor scalp.

After I was done, I skipped downstairs into the kitchen and smiled at Sabir. He returned the expression and we walked arm in arm to the Merchant King's Palace.

* * *

The place was huge, I'll tell you that. HUGE! Sabir and I both stood outside of the entrance, just staring up at the place with eyes as huge as plates. I blinked in wonder, and he smiled. Needless to say, I'm pretty sure he was thinking about how wonderful the food was going to be. Right on cue, his eyes took on that hungry look. Ahaha, yep, I knew it..

However, right when we were going to walk through the doors, a man called Sabir over. I recognized him, he was one of Sabir's friends. I waved Sabir off and gave a polite grin. "Don't worry about me, I'll be right here waiting." Or so I thought.

My friend nodded and walked over to his own friend. I stood like an idiot for a few minutes before something caught my eye. A flash of white made me walk to the side of the palace and tilt my head in question. Oh good grief, what was that man doing?

"Um... excuse me?" I called up to him. He was climbing the building and immediately froze in place when he heard my voice. He turned his head down to look at me, and that hood still concealed his face. Oh well, ugly, don't care what you look like anyways. I recognized him as the man from the barn in no time. Yet, he seemed familiar in a different way..

I cleared my throat. I could just imagine him glaring me from beneath those shadows covering his eyes. "Why don't you just use the scaffold?"

He recoiled his head back in surprise. He probably thought I was going to call the guards on him, but I wasn't that much of a rat fink. After all, I climbed walls to enter places that I wasn't invited too as well, so I understood his motives perfectly. _Perfectly_.

The man turned his head to the side and sure enough, there was the scaffold. He paused. I think he was rolling his eyes either at me or from his stupidity. I hoped it was the latter. He scaled the wall until he reached the scaffold and began climbing that. I was sure that _that_ was much easier than looking for something to grab onto when you were trying to climb a smooth as silk wall.

And yet he didn't even bother saying 'thank you'. Bastard.

I huffed, rolled my eyes, and wandered back over to Sabir just as he was walking towards me.

"Everything alright, Asa child?"

I smiled the biggest fake smile I had ever done in my entire life. "Perfect," I said through gritted teeth. He shrugged, but we locked arms together as we both entered the palace.

And _Allah, did I HAVE to see my pig brother kiss a woman's neck right when I walked in?_ He makes my ass twitch.


	6. Chapter 6

So. I finally decided to update this thing. I know, it's been forever, and I apologize. But I've been mainly working on Loving Hate instead, and I doubt that I'll update this thing soon. I don't really know where this story is going... o.o; I guess I'm kinda making it up as I go along. I'm trying, but I've never been a humungaloid fan of Altair/OC stories. Ah well.

All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else belongs to me.

FunFact: Asa's name came from an Armenian song called 'Asa Asa' by Armenchik.

* * *

"Oh, Asa, this place is wonderful!" Sabir breathed out as he glanced around the courtyard. He was right; it _was _beautiful. Well, besides Ghalib and that rather scantily clad woman over there smooching and whatnot. I did my best not to look at my idiot of a brother. It was hard for me to take in everything all at once! Columns with such intricate carvings, vines, exotic plants, unique and expensive looking architecture—_wonderful._

A glorious fountain stood erect in the center of the courtyard. It depicted a woman, who obviously was not very shy to show off some flesh, carrying a jar atop her head. I was never good at carrying jars, just ask Sabir. More than once I've spilled the water onto him, resulting in more '_Oo-uumma!'_s. Only this fountain was pouring wine. It looked intoxicating and completely inviting to the lips. I was never a big drinker myself. I've only had sips here and there.

But wine and Sabir was like Sabir and bread. I could tell he was calculating which table to eat at first. There were so many different choices of foods, and the smell was _killing _me! It was absolutely fantastic, and although I had a quick bite to eat before we came here, my stomach was _demanding _me to taste everything.

I think Ghalib had a different appetite, though. His eyes caught mine as he latched his lips onto that poor woman's (well, if she's willing to bow down to him, then I suppose I shouldn't feel sorry for her) neck. I scrunched my face up. _Ew. _Just how am I related to this animal?

"Come, Asa, we must dine!" I was practically dragged to one of the decorated tables, Sabir's mind obviously made up. He probably already knew which table he was going to raid next. I helped myself to a few kibbeh, slowly chewing and marveling in the taste. I've eaten kibbeh _plenty _of times, but Allah's slippers! It was crispy on the outside, yet mouth-watering on the inside. I glanced around me, noticing that I was not the only one enraptured by the flavor. I didn't even realize before how many people were in here!

Some were conversing, old friends embracing one another and kissing each other's cheeks respectfully, while others were piling food onto plates (example: Sabir). The dancers weaved throughout the crowds, pulling a few guests here and there to join them. They looked absolutely amazing. I know I could never fill out their attire so well. How did women even get curves like those? Did a merchant sell them to them or something? I must be missing out on all the sales.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father shake hands with one of his merchant buddies. I recognized the man easily. He's been trying for years to collaborate his business with my father's, saying that together they could prosper and gain much wealth. Father isn't a complete fool, though. He knows a scam when he sees one, and this man was a con artist. I smirked, knowing that Father would have his ear practically bent for the hours he'd have to spend listening politely to the man. All for his reputation. Pity.

I looked to my right to find Sabir stuffing his face with grape leaves. My eyes widened after I saw nearly ten of them fit nicely into his mouth with room for more. Chuckling, I grabbed his hand before he could devour any more and led him to another table. The guests gave me appreciative looks for sparing them some food.

"You aren't going to drink the wine?" I asked Sabir.

"Not yet, Asa. You see, wine is something to be enjoyed. It is meant to be rolled around in the mouth, tasted by every bit of the tongue. If I gulped it all down, what pleasure would I gain from that? I'll help myself to a glass when we leave, child."

I nodded, understanding his reasoning. I could relate with my job at the stables. I usually leave Basil the last one to groom since he was my favorite. For once, Sabir, I understand your food craving!

I gasped as someone suddenly grabbed my shoulder. I whirled around only to come face to face with Wadi. He broke into a huge grin as he saw my mortified look. "I guess someone else has an even more amusing face than I do!" he laughed before letting me go. I took in a breath of relief and shook my head at him.

"You milkless goat! You almost made me lose ten years off my life!"

He smiled again, this time as an apology. "What, you aren't happy to see me here? You wound me, Asa."

I snorted. "Of course I'm happy! Now I have someone other than Sabir to enjoy the party with!" We both looked behind us at the man. How on Earth was he keeping all that food on his plate? The stack practically reached the Heavens!

Wadi chuckled nervously before rubbing his neck. "May I offer another way of entertainment, then?" I smiled, accepting his hand as he led me to where other guests were dancing. They held hands while forming a circle, stepping in time to the rhythm the duduk players gave them. Wadi and I easily slipped in, the guests more than happy to enlarge their merry ring of people.

"So you aren't on duty today?" I called over the shouts and laughter. Wadi flashed another grin. He wasn't a very good dancer, but he did have grace. I suppose it made up for his lack of skill. I'd never tell him that he looked like a camel trampling through snow, though.

"I'm off until tomorrow, and I intend to enjoy this vacation!" The rotation of the circle became counter-clockwise, and my feet stumbled while trying to switch the direction. I bumped into Wadi, and he blushed very noticeably.

"Sorry," I mumbled beneath my breath."

"I don't mind," he whispered in my ear. I'm pretty sure his blush was contagious, or maybe I was catching something, for I felt my face heat up as well. I panicked, looking around for a way out of this predicament. Wadi was... he... he was a _friend! _A very, very good and trustworthy _friend! _I looked over my shoulder to find Ghalib smirking at me with a look of victory. He'd conjure up a story out of thin air, I know it! He'll go running off to father after the party and have me punished for interacting inappropriately with the opposite sex!

Thankfully, the circle of guests slowed to a stop as the host walked onto his balcony. The chain of hands eventually broke, yet I noticed that Wadi hadn't let go of me yet. I gulped, noticing that my hands were sweaty. Or maybe they were his hands, I wasn't sure.

"Welcome, welcome!" A deep and baritone voice boomed across the courtyard, causing all guests to stop in their festivities to kindly give their attention to the speaker. I didn't like his voice. It was deep, yes, but it... it was a little too convincing to be true. Something about this man, now that I was looking at him, told me to _stay away. _

"Thank you all for joining me this evening!" There was an applause coming from the guests, all of them smiling. I blinked, not knowing what to do since one of my hands was being held captive. Abu'l seemed to notice us standing like the little idiots we were in the crowd, and he frowned down at us. I hung my head low. Of all the times to be scolded...

"Please eat, drink, enjoy all the pleasures I have offered! Take your time, I will wait." And wait you will, big boy. I glanced beside me at two men, obviously friends, who filled their glasses with the wine pouring out of the statue's jar. Soon others followed suit, including Sabir. I chuckled, knowing that he couldn't resist. "I trust everything is to your... satisfaction?"

Was I the only one who heard that pause of disgust in that sentence? I frowned, glancing back at the Merchant King. I could see he was holding back a grin, of what, though, I couldn't tell. Was he happy that his food was delicious and that we were all comfortable? Or was there something else going on?

My eyes widened as I noticed a familiar figure in white robes on top of the Palace's roof, just above Abu'l Nuqoud. Was he an entertainer of some kind? Was that why the King was smirking? Was the familiar man going to do some astounding acrobatic stunt and have the guests in awe? I smiled from anticipation. It'd be a neat thing to see, after all.

"Most excellent, most excellent!" the guests chanted together. They bowed courteously to Abu'l, some even jumping up and down—I should have told Sabir about jiggling rolls...

Abu'l seemed to grow smug from all the praise he was receiving. Heh, I would be too. "Good, good! It pleases me to see you all so _happy!" _Another cheer from the crowd. "But, these are dark days, my friends." Really? I hadn't noticed. After all, business only _plummeted _due to the war, but go on, go on. "And we must enjoy this bounty while we still can. War threatens to consume us all. Salah ad Din bravely fights for what he believes in—and you are always there to support him without question."

More brows creased from his change of tone. What happened to the jolly fat man on the balcony? Who was this gluttonous snake? "It is your generosity that allows his campaign fuel. So, I propose a toast then!" Ah, there was the jolly fat man again. Ladies and gentlemen, it was a hoax! He's back, keep your turbans on! "To _you_, my dear friends, who have brought us to where we are today!"

This man was powerful, even I sensed that. Not power as in muscle. He looked like he weighed more than a barnhouse of cattle, but his words and his _voice. _He could cause fear into his listeners, but then the next second we'd be cheering him on and bowing down to him. Me? I refuse to bow, I'll ruin my outfit. Wadi inclined his head, and I would have smacked him if he didn't put me in such a compromising situation.

Some men held their goblets out to the King, then drank from them. I noticed Sabir politely nod his head at Abu'l, but not once did his lips touch his glass. So, he was staying true to his reasoning after all. What a good boy!

"May you be given everything you deserve for it!" That was it. That was why he was able to control their minds so easily. These guests were like children while he was the father. He'd scold, he'd warn, and he'd frighten us, but then he'd promise us such great and unimaginable things. Now that the charm of this place actually wore off, I recognized so many of these people. They weren't of high class in society. They were either common folk or beggars, dressed in whatever fancy garments they had. I didn't like this...

When more people got on their hands and knees to praise the Great Lard of Damascus, he bellowed, "Such kindness! I didn't think it in you!" What? We may be poor, but we aren't lacking manners. In fact, I say we have more manners than rich folk any day of the week! "You: who have been so quick to judge me so cruelly!" Slowly, the guests rose to their feet, shaking their heads at his fickle words. I gripped Wadi's hand tighter, noticing that his mouth was turned downward and his brow furrowed.

"Oh, do not feign ignorance!" He pointed down at Wadi and myself. "Do you take me for a fool? That I have not heard the words you've whispered behind my back?" We shook our heads simultaneously, bunching together unconsciously. "Well, I have," he snarled down at us, "and I feel I can never forget." Oh, dear. Rich men holding grudges were never good men!

"But this is not why I called you here today, no! I wish to speak more of this war and _your _part in it. You give up your coin, quick as can be, knowing all too well it implies the death of thousands! You don't even know _why _we fight! 'For the sanctity of the Holy Land' you'll say, or 'the evil England nation of our enemy'." _Excuse me? _He was insulting Salah ad Din! I didn't know the ruler personally, but he was protecting _us, _so I say he deserves at least a _lick _of respect!

"Well, these are _lies _you tell yourselves!" He chuckled then, and I think I felt the courtyard tremble from the laugh. Wadi shifted his feet nervously. "No, all this suffering is born from fear and hate. It _bothers _you that they are different, just as it bothers _you _that _I _am different!" He then took a huge drink from his own goblet, slamming it down on the balcony's railing once he drained it of its contents. "Compassion. Mercy. Tolerance. These words mean _nothing _to _any _of you—mean nothing to those infidel invaders who ravage our land in search of gold and glory!"

And he says _we _tell ourselves lies? He's corrupted in the head, that's what he is! How _dare _he gather us in his own house just to insult us! I should throw my shoe at him!

"And so I say ENOUGH!" He slammed his fists down on his balcony, curling his lip back at us as if we were all vermin. Wadi's head immediately swiveled side to side. Clearly he noticed something that I did not, and I was too petrified to ask. He let go of my hand, and I was close to screaming at him for doing such a thing. He wrapped his arm around my waist instead.

"I've pledged myself to another cause: one that will bring about a New World in which _all _people will live side by side _in peace_." And what new cause is this? The 'Order of the Homosexual Rebellion?' I gagged when he placed his hand on one of his guard's shoulder, rubbing it a little too friendly with his thumb. I think I'm going to hurl...

"A pity none of you will wish to see it," he whispered in a tone mocking sadness. And then I'm almost certain that I screamed. Right beside me, a man began coughing and scrabbling at his throat, dropping his wine glass. He wheezed as if breath wouldn't come to him, and then crumpled to the ground. Wadi pulled me closer to him, both arms wrapped around me now, as more people fell to their knees.

"Kill anyone who tries to escape!" As soon as the order left his mouth, arrows began showering down on us. I tried to run, or to hide, or do anything, but my feet were stuck to the ground. I watched with horrified eyes as more people coughed up their own blood, soon drowning themselves in it as they met the ground with dull and lifeless thuds.

But it seemed that Allah was with me that day. Wadi didn't seem to be as traumatized as I was and immediately took action. He grabbed my arm with one hand, pulling me along, while with his other he dug in his kameez and produced a pair of keys. I was screaming for Sabir, noticing how close to me arrows landed. Some hit targets, either wounding or killing the men and women.

Just beside me was a woman running for her life. But she was no more when an arrow pierced through her neck. This couldn't be happening, this had to be a nightmare, or a rouse, anything but reality. Tears streamed down my face as I experienced what Death and Betrayal really were. I broke myself from Wadi's grip to lose myself in the crowd in search of Sabir. My friend shouted for me to come back. We were only several feet from the door.

I pushed people out of my way while avoiding being shoved to the ground. If I fell, I'd be trampled on by countless feet, but if I stood, I'd be shot. I cried out once more, desperately trying to find the light blue robe of Sabir.

But he found me.

He was panting and his face was twisted with fear as he grabbed my arm, hauling me over to where Wadi was standing by the door. He was using one of the pillars as protection from the arrows, and soon, several other guests were mimicking him. They were like animals, pushing and clawing at one another for a means to live as there weren't enough pillars in the courtyard. I looked up at Abu'l, imagining his look of amusement and perverse pleasure, as I reached the door with Sabir.

But what I saw had me gasp. The man that I had told to climb the scaffolding into the Palace leapt down from the roof, drawing his hand back, and then slamming his left palm into the Merchant King's neck. Blood splattered from the blow, peppering his balcony. I closed my eyes, letting Wadi's arms wrap around me as he unlocked the Palace door.

I opened my eyes for one final look. I couldn't resist, and I nearly blacked out from the two deaths I saw. Father and Ghalib would be together, plotting ways to ruin my life even from Hell, for arrows entered and left their heads.


	7. Chapter 7

And here is chapter 7! I've finally figured out a somewhat decent plot for the story, and I must say, I like it so far. Though I'm still not too keen on Altair/OC stories (I'm all for Altair/Maria in case you didn't know), I think I can scrounge up some pretty good plot steps and twists. And a few updates to my other story, Loving Hate: expect a new chapter up this weekend, and I'm considering dropping the story.

All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else is mine.

Enjoy!

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I couldn't decide whether to scream or cry as Sabir held me with all his strength. We ran as fast as we could out of the Merchant King's Palace with Wadi leading the way. It was awful. Even as we left the place, we could still hear the screams of the men and women the archers' arrows found. All the blood, the sounds of the alarm bell ringing, the sights, the _smell... _

Just thinking about it almost had me hurl on the floor. I couldn't even stand up I was so terrified. I sat on the floor, Sabir still holding himself to me. One hand gripped Sabir's so tightly, I thought I'd tear it off, while the other held my dog, Shama, close to me. We sat in our misery, listening to the wailing of the bell carry on and on throughout the city. We huddled closer together from just thinking of the guards patrolling the streets.

Wadi was somewhere in the house, probably on the second floor keeping an eye out for any more guards. We hadn't run into any trouble on the way home, but it was his nature to be cautious.

He was quiet for the most part. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he chose not to. It aroused Sabir's and my suspicions, alright. Right at that moment, I didn't trust one single city guard in the entire world, and Wadi was not welcome in this house. I think he knew it, too, but acted like there wasn't any tension between the three of us.

Oh, but tension there was.

He swore to Sabir and me that he didn't know that the party was a hoax. I wanted to believe him, but in my current state, I couldn't even have believed Sabir if he told me it was nighttime, which it was.

We were lucky. We could have been killed—we _should _have been killed. I'll thank Allah every day for blessing Sabir and I with Wadi. If he never had the keys to the palace, if he didn't drag us through the door, then... I'd be no better than what happened to Father and Ghalib. Though they were cruel to me and never showed an ounce of love, they were all the family I had left. How could I _not _have cried?

So many questions were racing through my head. Were the guards going to come looking for us? Would the dead at the King's Palace be laughed at and scorned? Would I ever even be able to live in Damascus knowing all the trickery and secrecy the city held?

_What would happen to Sabir and me?_

I had no dowry, the successor to Father's business was dead, and Sabir knew nothing of economics. I was only capable of grooming and taking care of horses while he was good at eating food and tasting fine drinks. Would we be separated from each other? Would I be forced into the life of a _sharmuta? _I didn't want to think about it. Father must have had some emergency coins stashed away in the house _somewhere. _We could probably live off of those until we decided what to do.

I gulped back more tears when I heard footsteps thudding against our stairwell. Sabir tightened his arms around me as we both looked up to see Wadi wearing a grim expression.

"Are they coming, my boy?" Sabir whispered in a terrified tone. He was shaking so much that it was beginning to hurt me. When Wadi didn't answer, I felt my blood turn cold. "For Allah's sake, boy! Answer me!"

"No," he mumbled beneath his breath, "but I must go now. My... my captain will be wondering where I went off to if I don't return soon."

"Off to list the survivors, then?" The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Wadi looked at me with pain and hurt. "Well, then, _go! _Go tell your captain where we are. Send men with more arrows here, why don't you!"

"Asa," he whispered. He cleared his throat and glanced at Sabir. "Master Sabir, may I have a moment with her?" The other man looked close to declining his offer, but I felt him withdraw his arms and move away from me. The only privacy he allowed me was him walking into another room that happened to be adjacent to the one I was in.

Wadi knelt down beside me when he was gone. I sniffed and squeezed Shama's fur for comfort. Wadi only sighed and cupped my cheek in his hand, brushing away tears with his thumb. "Asa, I am so sorry," he breathed. "If I knew, I would have told you not to come—"

"But you'd let those countless attendants die, wouldn't you?"

He blinked and quickly shook his head. "No, I would have let everyone know—"

I pulled away when he tried to bring me closer to him. "It was your squadron, wasn't it? The men who killed the guests? You knew all of them, didn't you?" When he chose silence, I knew what I did just then was a mistake. I smacked him.

"Asa, listen to me," he pleaded as he gripped my wrist. I struggled against him as fear wrapped itself around my heart. I wanted to scream for Sabir to get this animal away from me, but my voice was lost.

"I didn't know they'd turn against the citizens. I didn't know that people were going to die today, and I didn't know that your father and brother were going to die—"

"Be quiet, _bozi tghah—__"_

"And I didn't know that any of this would happen!" His voice was barely above a whisper as he drew closer to me. "Asa, I'd never allow you to see death if I could help it. It isn't something for women to witness. Asa, I love and care for you too much to ever want such a thing to happen." When I opened my mouth to swear even more in my mother's language, I couldn't move my lips. He had seized any opportunity for me to speak by pressing his mouth against mine.

And then I punched him with everything I was worth. Right in the nose.

He stumbled backward, immediately groaning and rubbing his face with his hands. Sabir came storming in the room then, a look of fury all over his face. I never noticed how intimidating he could be until that night. He seemed to reach the ceiling as he stood to his full height.

"Get out," I hissed at Wadi. He looked more betrayed than ever as I stood over him as well. "I said get out, you _vorig!_" He scrambled to his feet and ran to the door as Shama began to growl. I don't think he ever growled that menacingly in his entire life. The fur on his neck was raised and his lip was curled back.

Sabir followed Wadi to the door, making sure he left. "It'd be wise for you to never step foot in this place again, boy, else I will be sure that you will not have the legs to do so!"

I watched with part guilt and part triumph as Sabir almost threw Wadi out the door. He fell on his backside in the street, nodding his head up and down at Sabir's threat. Before he made a full bolt away from the house, he dug into his pockets, pulling out an all too familiar necklace, and threw it at the doorway. It went past Sabir and landed right in front of my feet. I gaped as I stared at it, and when I looked up at Wadi, he was gone.

Sabir quickly slammed the door and ushered me upstairs into my father's chambers.

"There isn't much time to lose, Asa," he panted as he turned the handle on the door. Locked. With a grunt, he slammed himself full force into it. It immediately cracked under his weight and he scampered into the room without seeming to notice the devastation he'd caused. "Wadi cannot be trusted—_no one _can be trusted in Damascus anymore, child."

"What are you talking about, Sabir? Surely all of Damascus can't be dangerous," I tried to reason. He waved his hand in dismissal and began ripping apart my father's study. I almost fainted right then and there. _No one _was allowed in father's quarters besides Ghalib and Sabir, and absolutely _no one _was allowed to go rummaging through his things. Only Sabir would have the nerve to do so. Didn't he fear that Father would rise from the dead and haunt him for disobeying him?

And worse! _I _was trespassing! It was ridiculous, being my own home, but this was my father's territory that I literally stumbled into. I helplessly stared at Sabir as he began throwing drawers this way and that. Clicking his teeth and cursing, he turned to the wall and dug his fingers into a hole in the wood. Then he _pulled. _A terrible creaking sound came from the wood as he tore it from the wall. I covered my face with my hands, unable to look at the destruction.

"By Allah, of course he'd hide it in here!" And just as I thought, my father had an entire pouch stuffed with gold stashed away. Sabir grabbed the dusty purse and then placed it into my unwilling hands. I knew what he was saying with that look on his face, and I gave a firm shake of my head.

"No," I murmured.

"You must, Asa."

"But, we can't—"

"Not '_we'_, child. _You _must get yourself out of Damascus. Go to the stables and wait for the alarm to stop, Asa. When it does, get yourself as far away from this place as you can. Go anywhere you want. I'm blessing you with this freedom."

My lips flapped together uselessly as I fought to understand what he was saying. I could barely comprehend the fact that he was filling a pack with loaves of bread and cheese for me, and I can't even remember that I secured the bag around my shoulders.

Then he was pulling layers and layers of clothing over me, topping it all off with a headpiece that hid most of my face. I felt encumbered and thought I'd suffocate with how many different tunics he'd dressed me in.

"You're almost ready to go, child."

I thought I'd be sick. Leave Damascus? Leave _him? _What about my life here? All the memories, even if most of them weren't pleasant? And how was I supposed to sneak to the stables? The city gate was practically on the other side of town! There was absolutely no way I'd be able to.

He gripped my shoulders and placed a kiss on my forehead. "I'll keep the guards occupied to give you time to escape." He grabbed my hand and began tugging me. I pulled back and took his hand in both of mine.

"What about you, Sabir? I can't leave you here knowing that it's dangerous!"

All he gave me was a sad smile. "Asa, child, you don't have a choice. I cannot ride a horse, and I doubt there's a beast alive that would be able to carry me. But you have a chance to survive, and I am not about to hold you hostage here so that they will find you." He pulled me in for an enormous hug. "Go out the back door when the guards come. Wait at the stables for the alarm to stop and then ride, Asa. Ride as far as Basil will take you to somewhere safe."

I nodded, almost choking on my tears. He let me go and opened the front door. I quietly tiptoed through the dining quarters of our house and stopped once I reached our back door. I gulped as I heard Sabir open the front door and scream desperately at the top of his lungs for help. I felt sweat coat my palms as I heard multiple footsteps pound their way to our house.

I slowly turned the handle on the door and slipped out into the night. I heard Sabir claim with much enthusiasm that there was a thief in our house. He was begging the guards to find the man and rid him of his hands. Tears stung my eyes as I ran as fast as I could, only risking one glance back at our house. The place was crawling with guards. Everything I ever knew, everything I worked for—it was just _gone. _Just like that.

My headdress clung to my face as I madly dashed to the city gate. More than once I had to stop and hide in an alley to avoid the guards. I should have had the advantage. I knew most of Damascus, and I knew every nook and cranny the place had to offer. But I just couldn't _focus. _It was as if I was running in a maze. Every building looked the same, every street was identical, and I was a mess. I endlessly prayed to the Lord above that I'd live the night and make it out of the city. I'd hate myself forever if Sabir's efforts were wasted.

More than anything, I wanted my oldest brother, Rami. He'd know what to do. He always knew what to do, which is why Father drafted him into Saladin's army. Rami was always bailing Ghalib out of his stupid problems. Why was it that when I needed him, he wasn't there to help?

I slowed down next to a broken and abandoned well to catch my breath. My muscles weren't used to this much abuse, and neither was my brain for that matter. I don't know how long I'd been running, but the alarm was still ringing. I wanted this day to be over with and for tomorrow to finally arrive. Morning was always better to think through problems than at night.

I slid to my knees and raised my arms behind my head. I felt as if my entire ribcage would burst open from how hard my heart was pounding.

Pulling myself back to my feet and regretting every minute of it, I decided to scratch the idea of running. Instead, I broke into a light jog to finally reach the city gate.

All I had to do was reach the stables, and then I'd be safe.

Or so I thought.

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Translations:

Arabic:

_sharmuta_ = whore/prostitute

Armenian:

_bozi tghah_ = son of a bitch

_vorig _= ass (not the animal)


	8. Chapter 8

**Holy freaking cow. It's almost been 6 months since I updated this. O_O; Wow. Um, I don't suppose a heartfelt apology would make anyone feel better? ^^;**

**Sorry, everyone. But I think I have a plot down for this, though there are still some holes here and there. I'll try to update this sooner. This only takes about 5 hours to make a chapter, whereas Loving Hate takes days. Speaking of which...**

**Those of you who are also readers of Loving Hate will see some of the characters belonging to me make appearances in this story. What can I say? I like my original characters.**

**Ubisoft owns Assassin's Creed and all of their own characters, I own my own people. Enjoy!**

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I held my breath as guards marched past me, fearing that they'd see right through my hiding spot and find me. I watched helplessly as they dragged people who I recognized as guests of the King's party. They were caught trying to escape the city, and now… Now…

Now they were being pulled to their deaths. I bit my lip and closed my eyes to stifle the scream that bubbled at the back of my throat. The men and women thrashed as they were tugged across the rough ground, their limbs flailing and kicking in a desperate escape. And each of their struggles were rewarded with swift blows.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I heard the crunching of bone. I wanted to shout at the sky and beg Him for an explanation of this treachery. Everything was stained and tainted in my eyes—what used to be beautiful Damascus was now a festering pit of misery.

Peeking around the corner of the alley that I hid in, I glanced at the city gates. I was _so close! _The stables were right there, but I wasn't going anywhere if those guards at the gate didn't move. My palms sweated as anticipation grew in my chest. The guards were leaning against the walls just at the exit, yawning and stretching their arms out. It put me to shame to see my people so lethargic.

But in their tired minds, would they notice a girl scampering by? I glanced down at my clothes. They'd surely notice this stuffed baklava running by, that's for certain. I think _everyone _in Syria would notice a baklava running by; for one, food doesn't just grow legs, get up, and start running, and for two, baklava is more layered instead of stuffed—

I shook my head. Now was not the time to be distracted, I told myself. I eyed the city walls, tilting my head as I judged my abilities. There were scaffoldings around the walls, but there weren't any footholds or ledges for me to climb once I was on top of them. I'd climbed houses and even trees before, but there were always plenty of holes and jutting edges for me to use. I don't even remember Damascus' walls being so polished and smooth—did they sand them down overnight?

My nails dug into my palms as I considered my options. I could wait for a guard shift, but how long would that be? And if I waited, how was I to know that I wouldn't be caught like those poor souls and yanked back into that dreadful courtyard?

No, I couldn't wait anymore. I had to take action. The alarm was still tolling and each chime from the bell rattled inside my head.

I would have to make a run for it and pray that the guards didn't catch me. Taking a deep breath, I braced myself as I made to sprint out of the alley—

I stopped myself from further action. Squinting my eyes, I could just make out a small dark figure creep toward the guards, being sure to stay low to the ground. I gasped as I recognized my own dog as Shama craned his neck out, careful not to be noticed, and tugged on one of the guard's purses.

I held my breath, fearing for my dog's life. Shama's teeth nibbled at the purse before clamping down on it. I watched in horror as the guard jumped and looked down at the furry thief. Shama growled before ripping the purse off. There was a hole in it from his teeth, and some of the contents spilled on the ground. But the guard wasn't worried about that. With the pouch secured in his jaws, Shama took off, the guards shouting and chasing after him.

I blinked, frowning at the men. They didn't _seriously _think that they could outrun Shama, did they? Sloughis were built for speed, and Shama was in healthy condition.

Pulling my hair and shaking my head, I looked around nervously. There weren't any guards at the gate since Shama lured them back into the city—

What was I _doing? _I huffed and sprinted out of the alley, passing through the gate and making a beeline toward the stables. My feet skidded to a halt as I stamped on the brakes just outside the stable door. I leaned against the stable door as I gasped for breath and clutched my chest. I still couldn't believe it; I had to stare at the city gate for a few minutes to actually grasp the concept that I made it out of Damascus.

But it wasn't over yet, and I knew this. I glanced side to side before creeping along the stable wall. The stable-master was probably at home, tucked away in bed with his wife and sons sound asleep—

To think, just yesterday _I _was safely tucked away in bed. Now, I… I wasn't even sure _what _I was.

The stables were dark as I unlatched the door and slipped inside. I could just make out my hand in front of my face. A few of the horses huffed and nickered in greeting as they caught my familiar sent, and I heard Basil whinny quietly from his stall. Shutting the stable door and cringing when it creaked, I carefully tiptoed toward his stall. I've been working in this stable for so long that I knew every jutting rock in the floor.

Stepping over equipment, I sighed as I stood in front of Basil. I rested my forehead on his as he blinked his sleepy eyes at me. He nuzzled my chest and nipped at my strange and bloated attire. I rubbed the area between his eyes with my knuckles, cooing and kissing his muzzle as he searched me for his usual carrot.

"No treats tonight, boy," I whispered. "I don't think you'll be seeing any sugar lumps for quite a while, either." I reached toward the bridle hanging on the peg next to the stable and let myself in his stall. I ran my hand down his side. For once, he didn't decide to take a roll.

He nickered as I slipped the bridle on him. He fumbled with the bit in his mouth, flicking at it with his tongue and swishing his head back and forth. He never did like the bit, but then again, every horse didn't. I murmured into his ear, and his head stopped jerking to and fro. My hands shook as I grabbed the saddle and threw it on his back. My fingers twitched and curled together as I tried to adjust the straps.

Before I knew it, I was crying. Hot tears cascaded down my face as I whimpered and gasped. It had been about leaving Damascus, but now I wasn't even sure where to go. I wasn't aware of any family outside of the city, and I'd never even _left _the city before.

Fear gripped me with a strong hold. There were _criminals _in the Kingdom—slavers, bandits, robbers, _men. _I was a woman, weaponless and alone, and that would be all they would need before inviting themselves to do me wrong.

Basil's ears twitched from my crying. He nervously stamped his hooves in place, snorting at me and nudging me with his head. My lips trembled as I forced them into a smile, more for Basil's reassurance than my own. I knew that _nothing _would ever comfort me into making this decision.

But what choice did I have?

I was just about to lead Basil from his stall when I heard the stable door open with a whine. My blood turned cold in my veins as I slowly backed away so I was behind Basil. I molded myself to the stable wall, my knees shaking and threatening to buckle underneath me. Even my breathing stopped as I heard soft footfalls. My heart was pounding in my chest and slowly riding up into my throat.

To add even more horror, the person had a candle. The horses grumbled and swished their heads from the light.

I slid from the wall and crawled behind Basil's hind-legs. I trusted my horse that he wouldn't kick out at me. I hugged my legs to my chest, praying to the Lord above that I wouldn't be discovered. The footsteps continued to grow nearer, the light from the candle passing by each stall as the person made their way down the stable.

A fleeting thought of suffocating myself just to end the anxiety passed through my mind before I stamped down on the idea. I'd gone through too much this night to just give up. But that didn't mean I didn't feel like a chicken waiting to have their head cut off, and I very much doubt that I'd be running around in a frenzied panic while headless.

The footsteps stopped, and from how Basil nudged at his stall door, I knew that the person was standing right in front of us. I would have soiled my clothes if I drank anything prior to leaving.

"Asa?"

I gasped from the familiarity of the voice, cursing myself soon afterward for making a sound. I pressed my eyelids closed and bit my lip; he was _dead, _I _saw… I saw it…_

He sighed and peered over Basil. "Asa, I can see you. Come out from there, Asa."

But I couldn't see him, not with my eyes closed. I tried to believe the childish saying 'if you can't see them, they can't see you'.

"Don't make this difficult for me, Asa. Get up."

My legs involuntarily brought me back to my feet, and even then, my eyes were still closed. I heard the man _tsk _between his teeth before he opened the stall door and pulled me out.

"You're going to be needing your eyes, Asa. Open them."

But I didn't want to, I _couldn't, _this was _sorcery—_

I opened them. Damn it, I _opened _them. And I didn't want to believe what I was seeing.

Ghalib, with his hand still curled around my wrist, stood before me with a frown on his face. I stared at the bandage wrapped around his head, noticing the dark red splotch on the side of it.

"N-no," I mumbled, my eyes widening as I tried to back away from him. "I-I saw… you—the arrow, it—"

"Grazed the side of my head," he finished. Strangely enough, I took comfort in the usual animosity in his gaze; at least _something _wouldn't ever change. Still though, I had to pat his face just to see if he was real. He could have been a ghost.

"And Father?" I whispered.

"Dead." He looked away from me, his jaw hardening and his lips pursing together. "We tried to reach you in the party, Asa. Father pulled me along, leading the way to you. When his hand on mine suddenly vanished, I turned just in time to see him fall to the floor, an arrow sticking right through his forehead. I was lucky," he said, pointing to the bandage.

Tears flooded my vision again, and to add another shock to the night, I flung my arms around my brother and buried my face in his chest. He wasn't Rami—sweet, kindhearted, strong Rami—who could chase away all of my fears, but he was still my blood and flesh. He was my _brother. _My _only _family here.

He stiffened before awkwardly patting me on the back, and then held me out from himself. "Right now, we have to get you out of here, Asa."

I nodded and reached for my pack on my back. "Sabir told me the same. He gave me provisions and money—"

"Sabir?" I swore I saw a smirk on his face, but it vanished as he muttered, "I thought he'd do that."

I tilted my head to the side. "What do you mean? Of course he would, he's like family to me." A silence hung in the air, and I shifted my feet uncomfortably. Something still wasn't right, though. The bandage around his head wasn't makeshift. It was actual muslin, meaning that he didn't tend to the wound himself.

"Ghalib?" He grunted in acknowledgment. "How did you escape the Palace?"

Something flashed in his eyes, and I knew that I didn't just imagine it. "Don't you remember? I was right beside you as we found a side door. Asa," he reached out to touch my forehead, "I know that you're experiencing much shock, but try to remember."

I narrowed my eyes in thought. "I only remember Wadi opening a door and helping Sabir and me escape."

"Wadi?" He took a step closer to me, and I didn't like how he was looking at me. I've been repulsed by my brother's faces for a long time, but this wasn't anything like those times. I felt another wave of fear course through my body.

But before I could do anything, he grabbed my hand. "Come, we must round up the other survivors." He tried to walk out of the stable with me in tow, but I yanked my hand out of his and took three steps away from him.

His face fell in confusion, and I knew it right then. "Asa?" He held his hand out for me. "We need to hurry if there's still a chance for them."

I shook my head and continued to back away. "No," I breathed out.

He frowned and clicked his tongue again. "Now is not the time, Asa. There are people waiting—"

"You intend to turn us in," I stammered, my back finally hitting the far wall of the stable. "You… _you… _you brokered a deal with them, didn't you?"

He chose silence over words. Anger and raw fury fumed in my face and eyes as I hissed out, "How _dare _you try to cheat your way out of—" His chuckle had me swallow my words. He shook his head at me and laughed again, as if I'd just said the world's wittiest joke.

"Still naïve, even in the face of danger, I see," he smirked. "No, Asa, I'm not going to sacrifice all of the survivors' lives."

I opened my mouth, but closed it as realization dawned upon me. My lips flapped together and my eyes practically bulged out of my skull. "Y-you wouldn't…"

"My sister's life for mine?" He rubbed his chin as if he was thinking it over. "It sounds like a reasonable deal to me, Asa."

"What importance do I have to them?" I glared at him as he slowly approached me. There wasn't a line of worry on his face.

"Importance?" His gait never broke. "You know people, Asa. Or, more accurately, they know _you."_

"W-what?" I spluttered, keeping my eyes on him. He didn't bother to clarify, and he was a good five feet away from me now. I snarled at him, "Mother would smack you if she knew—"

"Mother's the reason for this, Asa, though I doubt you'd understand. It's better that way," he added. He was right in front of me now, his body only inches from mine. Then, he continued in a growl, "You were always so gullible when not knowing."

I didn't think. I only reacted. My knee came up, smashing into our family jewels. He yelped and clutched his groin as I dashed past him. But as much pain as he was in, it didn't stop him from whirling around, grabbing my headdress, and pulling me back to him. I shrieked when my back collided with the wall. I tried to kick him as he reached for me, but he grabbed my ankle and yanked me closer to him.

Clawing at him, I scratched his cheek and made to bite him. His free hand latched around my throat and kept my face away from his while his other forced my captured leg to wrap around his waist. I choked a snarl out, digging my nails into his arms and ripping holes into his shirt. He winced, but his hands were still around me, and soon, he was slowly nearing the stable's entrance.

My mind screamed in fury and defeat as he opened the stable door. Everything, _everything _was ruined, I was going to _die—_

Ghalib suddenly howled in pain, and I fell from his grip. I crawled backward on the stable floor, blindly making my way back to Basil's stall. By now, all of the horses were wide awake and in a panic. Basil was no exception.

Scrambling to my feet and opening his stall door, I threw myself onto the saddle and turned my head to Ghalib.

Shama, who was apparently done distracting the guards, bit into my brother's leg, yanking Ghalib out of the stable. My dog's face twisted to and fro as he urged more of my brother's flesh into his jaws.

My feet hardly had any time to find the stirrups before Basil took off and bounded out of the stable. He reared up when he saw Ghalib struggling on the ground with Shama. I tried to whisper in his ears, but Basil wouldn't have it. He could smell blood and he was spooked.

Shama scurried away from Ghalib when he kicked out at him with his free leg. My dog slowly crept around him, his hackles raised and his lip curled back in a guttural growl. Ghalib's back was facing the stable, and Shama seemed to know this.

I always knew my dog was smart.

He broke into action, sprinting and then leaping on Ghalib—and when Sloughi's leap, they _leap—_sending him flying into the stable.

His head hit the stable with full force. Shama still circled him, even when he was lying motionless on the ground. I didn't know if he was dead or knocked unconscious, and after all that he'd done to me this night, I didn't care.

I admit that with the utmost shame. Even though he'd betrayed me, he was still my brother.

My heels dug into Basil's sides, and he didn't need any more encouragement before bolting away from the stables. Shama was right beside us, my faithful dog easily matching his pace with Basil's.

I wasn't sure where the three of us were going. All I knew is that we were _going. _


	9. Chapter 9

**I'm on a roll, what can I say? And I was in the mood to write, so I decided to do another chapter. I think I'm finally starting to like this story. Lemme know what you think.**

**All original characters belong to Ubisoft, everyone else is mine.**

* * *

We'd been in the Kingdom for days—Shama, Basil, and I. If I thought Damascus' marketplace was unbearably hot with all the people crowding together to buy merchants' wares, then I was wrong. If I thought my life as my Father's servant was rough and unfair, then I was mistaken. If I ever even considered the fact that God frowned upon me when Father beat me, then I was foolish.

Sabir had only given me enough food and water for one person. I didn't eat a thing and didn't allow one drop of that water to touch my lips. I gave everything to Shama and Basil, Basil especially. If he collapsed due to exhaustion, then I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. I could always tie myself to the saddle to make sure I didn't fall off.

They could both sense my weariness, though. I couldn't remember a time when the sun glared down at me with such intensity. I could see the swirls of heat in the air. Even with my headdress on, I felt my hair being cooked. My lips were dry and chapped, and I couldn't even whistle.

Shama repeatedly kept looking up at me in the saddle. He'd whimper and then continue his trot beside Basil.

I never slept. I didn't know if Ghalib was still out there searching for me, and I didn't know if the guards were hot on my trail. Whenever I'd pull Basil over to let him and Shama have a small nap, I'd stay awake and alert, waiting for the signs of danger. But the thundering of hooves and soldiers brandishing their weapons at me never came.

I suppose that the stable-master would notice Basil missing and that he'd immediately link his disappearance to mine, but for him to tell the guards would jeopardize himself. I was a fugitive, and anyone affiliated with them were just as guilty of crime.

Though what crime I committed, I cannot say.

Yes, he'd keep his mouth closed and deny the fact that Basil ever even existed. And when guards would ask him if he knew a certain Asa Farajian, he'd say he never heard of the girl in his life. Anything to keep him and his family safe.

My thoughts were scrambled. I'd worry about Basil losing a shoe, about Shama suddenly falling over, and about Sabir and Wadi. I wanted to smash my skull with a rock from my stupidity. I'd given them away as if they were leftovers. Ghalib _knew _that they helped me, now, and I didn't want to think about what would happen to them.

But of course I did think. I thought of all the horrors they'd have to face.

Poor Sabir. He'd never done anything wrong in his entire life, and for him bestowing kindness upon someone wasn't any reason to have him punished. I wanted to scream in agony. I could picture Ghalib, with all the glory a snake like him could have, boasting and sneering at Sabir that I ratted him out. Ghalib would lie and twist the truth to upset Sabir.

And Wadi. Dear, dear Wadi, who I callously banished from my life without even a second thought after he saved me and Sabir from a horrid fate. What I'd give to apologize to him!

The days wore on. Shama had managed to chase and kill a rabbit. I was glad that Basil took to grazing on the sparse vegetation in the Kingdom. I gave him most of the bread whenever he couldn't find a patch of grass.

I feared making a fire. I didn't want the light to attract anyone, and so when Shama came trotting back over to me with a rabbit in his mouth and dropped it at my feet, all I could do was push it back to him. He didn't understand the fact that I couldn't eat it raw, and it upset him. He'd whimper and cry for long minutes and continue to nuzzle the rabbit toward me.

It sickened me to see my dog cry like that. He wouldn't give up trying to urge me to eat the rabbit, and my growling stomach only enhanced his determination. He finally settled down when I began tearing at the rabbit. I'd rip a piece of meat off, bring it to my mouth and pretend that I was eating, and then I'd offer him the piece. It was the only way he'd eat, and my gut twisted in shame for fooling him.

Nighttime was both paradise and torture. It was the only time when I was thankful for all the layers of clothing I wore. The fabrics kept the chill away, and with Shama curled beside me and Basil protectively looming over me while they slept, there was an abundance of warmth. It was the actual thought of sleeping that had tears relentlessly stream down my face.

I wanted to sleep. So badly. So _desperately. _I'd hear Shama and Basil snore, and then my own body would ache and grow lethargic. Part of me entertained the thought of just closing my eyes for a few minutes, but I knew that if I did that, I wouldn't wake up for days. And I couldn't afford that. Keeping myself awake was another torment. I dreamt of food—platters and platters of food—while massaging my chafed thighs. Crispy semseg, roasted lamb leg, thick kufta balls, and buckets and buckets of bread.

I'd say the recipes for them out loud, sometimes even waking my two companions up. I'd even create my own recipes and store the knowledge away for later use. I created my own dishes in this fantasy world, knowing every spice just by the texture and smell as I cooked up a storm. My clothes would often be saturated with drool by the time the sun started to rise.

And then everything repeated itself.

Further into the Kingdom, we'd pass villagers on their way back from their wells. I stared at the jars filled with water on their heads with the utmost interest, my mouth becoming ten times drier just from the sight. I could even _smell _the water.

But then I would look away. I never looked anyone in the eye, thinking that they could look right through me and know exactly who I was and what I was doing. My clothes hid proof of my gender and my headdress hid my face from everyone. It was ridiculous for me to think that, but at the time, that fear kept me on Basil's saddle and persuaded me to continue.

Basil tended to shy away from the smallest of things. He'd never left the region of Damascus, and the sounds of animals along the Kingdom's cliffs were enough to have him spooked. It took every ounce of strength from me to hold onto him. I never tried to stop him, for I knew that my arms couldn't withstand that.

Sometimes he even tried to turn around. He'd snag the bit between his teeth and start jerking his way this and that, and I'd shout and scold him until he began walking in a choppy straight line.

This struggle continued.

Until I fell off the saddle.

* * *

I don't know how long I lied facedown in the rocky dirt. My limbs refused to move and my eyes rejected my attempts to keep them open. I grew numb to the hunger festering in my stomach, to the heat baking me alive, and to my aching body. It all faded away like a bad dream.

That's what it all was: a bad dream. I'd wake up and I'd be in my house, tucked into my bed with Shama sleeping beside me. Sabir would hassle me out of bed, force me to get ready, and we'd walk around the market. I'd see Wadi and we'd tease each other, and then Sabir and I would go on our picnic on the hill overlooking Damascus. We'd talk, we'd laugh, and we'd eat—especially him. And I'd return home that day to the usual Father and Ghalib and sustain each of their hurtful words.

And then the next day would follow. I'd be at the stables, mucking out the stalls and pampering Basil. Yes, and then after that I'd come home stinking to high Heavens. Just like every other day. It won't change; it'll all repeat itself again.

Just… like…

Every… every… other…

…Voices? Was I talking in my sleep? No, my voice doesn't sound like that—and there are _two _voices. They're coming closer…

Fur. I feel fur on top of me. And I hear growling. Shama… Shama's growling… Why's Shama growling?

_Get… up… Asa…_

"_Oye, _be careful of the dog—that's a nice _perro." _

_Who..?_

Shama was snarling. I could feel his chest reverberating on my back. Shama's… protecting me… from what?

More voices, more sounds. A whinny—Basil's whinny. And then two other nickers. Horses. I could smell them. Was I in the stable? Did I fall asleep on the job?

"_Oye, _Musta, be careful! That dog isn't friendly!"

Shama's friendly… what is he talking about? Shama's very friendly… likes to slobber all over people…

I heard someone making kissy sounds. Shama's growling stopped, and then I felt him slowly crawl off of me.

_No… Shama, come back… I'm sorry about the rabbit.._

Soft footsteps coming closer, and then more voices. They were inspecting me. I felt hands at my waist—_don't steal my pack! Criminals! Thieves! Cutthroats! Pickpockets!_

And then hands at my face—_Ohhh, don't lift my head up, it hurts—_

* * *

"Nice dog, that's a good boy, we don't want to hurt you. That's it, boy, come over here."

"_Oye, _what are you doing? That dog's vicious! Do you see those teeth, or do you need your eyes checked?"

He waved at his companion to be quiet, never once taking his eyes off the dog. "Give me something he likes."

He snorted, "How should I know what the dog likes?"

"Then give me a piece of food."

"Augh, this is crazy, I'm telling you." He dug in his saddlebag until he pulled out a stale piece of bread. He roughly placed it into his friend's outstretched hand. "We're going to get a licking for this—are you even listening to me, Musta?"

He shushed his friend and slowly knelt to the ground, clicking his tongue and holding out the piece of bread to the dog. "Here, boy, come here," he cooed. "You want the bread? You like the bread? Come here, little pooch."

"_Little?" _A snort. "Do you see the size of that thing? It's bigger than your sister's breas—"

The dog carefully stood from his crouched position over the body, staring at the boy holding the food out. He crept toward him and stretched his neck out. He snatched the bread from the boy and quickly gobbled it up.

"Give me another piece." He wiggled his fingers expectantly at his friend, his eyes still on the dog.

"Should we give him our extra blankets and socks, too?"

"_Damiel." _

"Alright, alright," he surrendered, complying with his friend's request and handing him a bigger piece. "There's no need to be cross with me." The boy, Damiel, watched from his perch atop the saddle as his friend offered the bread to the dog. "I don't see why we're doing this, though, you know."

"Well, we can't just leave them here like—good boy, yes you are, come here," he lilted. He smiled when the dog took the bread again, and soon the hound was hesitantly sniffing the boy for more. He turned his head away from the dog as he smelled his hands.

Shama carefully nudged the boy's cheek with his nose, then pawed his arm and nudged it with his head.

"Oh, isn't that cute? He's fallen in love with you, Mustafa," Damiel sneered from his horse. "Now say goodbye to your new lover and let's get out of—_oh, _don't _pet _it!"

Mustafa laughed as the dog pounced on him, sending him backward on his rear. The hound licked his face and wagged his tail as the boy playfully growled and squeezed his fur.

Damiel whined and tossed his hand in the air, staring at the sky above. "Oh, _Dios, _why do you torture me so? Mustafa, stop petting that thing! It's going to grow _attached _to you and follow you everywhere and pee in the same spot you do and—"

"You were right, Damiel," Mustafa chuckled as he tried to keep Shama's muzzle away from him.

"Of _course _I was right! I'm the only one with sense here—"

"I _am _getting a licking from this!" Mustafa sighed as Shama finally climbed off of him. The dog whimpered and trotted over to where the body lay on the ground. He sat beside the figure and whined at Mustafa. The boy nodded before picking himself up and striding forward.

"It's best if we just leave it here, Mustafa. We don't know who they are, and it'll be better if we don't get involved." Damiel tutted when Mustafa didn't even bother paying him any mind.

"Heat exhaustion?" he mused as he rested his hand on the body's back. He glanced at the dog who was scrutinizing him and then to the horse a good twenty feet away. "Those two seem to be in good health. I wonder what happened?"

"It's none of our concern what happened," Damiel countered as he sauntered over to his friend. "I don't know about you, but I don't want to have my ear bent again—"

Mustafa carefully turned the person's head and inspected their face. They were covered in grime and the few wisps of hair sticking out from their headpiece stuck to their forehead.

"A young boy, I'd wager," Damiel pouted. "Too bad. Could have been a beautiful flower."

"Those are either taken or work in brothels," Mustafa sighed. He turned the boy over. He weakly groaned from the movement. "At least he's responsive," he chuckled.

"Oh, good, I was on the edge of my seat with anticipation. Say a prayer, do a dance, and let's _please _get back to—_vaya, _no, you _cannot _be serious!" Damiel snarled and slapped his forehead when Mustafa picked the boy up with that dog following close behind. "Mustafa Ibn-Rashid, if you even _think _about putting that boy on your horse, I'll—" But it was too late, as Mustafa was already in the saddle behind the unconscious lump.

"He's so light," Mustafa murmured. "What he needs is food and rest."

"And what _we _need," Damiel grumbled as he trudged over to retrieve the boy's horse, "is to actually follow orders for once. How many times has Master Malik told us _not _to bring back souvenirs from the Kingdom, Mustafa?" He grabbed the reins, ignoring how the horse snorted uneasily, and yanked the beast back over to his own horse.

"I'm sure Master Malik will understand. Besides," Mustafa chuckled, "_you _were the one who saw the body first, Damiel. I'm hardly to blame here."

Damiel made a disgusted sound from the back of his throat as he tied the horse to his saddle. When it was secure, Damiel scurried around Basil and started digging through the saddlebags.

Mustafa clicked his tongue and frowned at Damiel. "That's not very respectful, you know. Can't you at least show some manners at a time like this?"

Shrugging, he easily replied, "I might as well get something out of this escapade, don't you think?" He pulled out an overstuffed purse, his face brightening at the sound of money clinking together, and untied the cord. He shrieked as he pulled out a handful of coins. He scampered over to Mustafa and held up the money. "L-look!"

His friend sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, Damiel, I know, money is a rare thing in your paltry life—"

"_No, look!" _Damiel, with his free hand, yanked the boy's face toward his palm. Mustafa blinked at the gold pieces and gaped at Damiel.

"This isn't good," he finally murmured.

"No, it isn't good. I _told _you we should have left the body!" He pocketed the coins, crossed his arms, and raised his chin in the air. "This is all your fault, you know. If you just listened to me from the start—"

"I believe I _did _listen to '_Oye, _Mustafa, what's that thing on the ground over there? Let's go take a closer look' very well."

Damiel stamped his feet and childishly pouted. "A closer look isn't taking the person back with us! _Oye, _where are you going with that thing?" He quickly scrambled onto his own horse as Mustafa urged his mount into a trot. "Just what madness is going through your head, Mustafa?" he demanded as soon as he was parallel to his friend.

"No madness," he shrugged. "I believe this is out of our hands and that Master Malik should be the one to decide what happens to the boy."

* * *

Translations:

_Oye: _Spanish for 'hey'

_Perro: _Spanish for 'dog'

_Dios: _Spanish for 'God'

_Vaya!: _Spanish exclamation of surprise

**Kudos to those of you who recognize Damiel and Mustafa, who are characters in my other story 'Loving Hate' )**


	10. Chapter 10

I am very, very sorry with the long delay in updating this. I'm finding myself drifting from the AC fandom. After Revelations... I'm just not really feeling the AC connection anymore. I'm trying, I really am. I'm sorry, dear readers :( Disclaimer, disclaimer.

* * *

Malik leaned over his desk, his brow furrowed with concentration as he sketched precise lines for a new map he was making. New buildings had been erected recently that month, and it was his duty to stay up-to-date on the layout of Jerusalem.

That, and he was too meticulous to just _not _include the new addition that had been added to the marketplace. The builders had to temporarily tear down Jerusalem's walls just to add the extra stalls and homes for the merchants.

His temple twitched when the tip of his quill snapped. He'd been told numerous times by his colleagues that he pressed too hard on the quill and that though his maps were the most accurate and informative they'd ever seen, his lines bled through the parchment. He sighed and reached to the drawer to his left that had an abundant supply of extra quills—courtesy of Mustafa and Damiel.

He froze when he realized just what limb he was trying to move to open the drawer. He stared at his left arm, or what _had _been his left arm. The stump moved a fraction before freezing in place, unable to do anything else. Anger bubbled in him as he tried again to open the drawer.

He could feel his arm, as if it had never been amputated. The fingers on his left hand wiggled and stretched toward the drawer, but they would never feel the wood.

His nostrils flared as the image of the man responsible for his humiliation came to mind. While Al Mualim gave Malik the title of Rafiq—an honor, considering his age and experience—_he _had the liberty to haunt the land, felling Templars and the Hashshashin's many enemies.

And what had _he _done to deserve that honor? Though he was stripped of his rank and forced to redeem himself, he had not been given the ultimate punishment, a fact that made Malik's sword arm tremble in anticipation. If ever given the chance, he'd be obliged to succeed where Al Mualim had failed.

Altair Ibn-La'ahad did not deserve to walk freely after betraying him and Kadar. The loss of his limb was frustrating and humiliating, but not seeing his younger brother's hopeful face ever again was crippling. He slammed his fist on the counter, jostling the inkwell and spilling some of its contents onto his latest project. His body trembling with raw fury, he swept his counter free of items, watching with little satisfaction as the inkwell crashed against the far wall and shattered into hundreds of pieces. The ink dribbled down the wall, staining it with a permanent black.

Malik cradled his forehead in his palm and shook his head. One day, he'd return the favor to Altair. He'd be _sure _that the man lost everything dear to him in the space of a few minutes.

But for now, he'd put aside those entertaining thoughts. The Bureau needed a keeper whose mind focused solely on their purpose, not a revenge-thirsty fool. Malik closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, focusing on the elements of his little haven to calm his soul.

The smell of parchment and ink, the fading din of the city, the small fountain trickling water in the adjacent room—

The sounds of his two novices clambering into the Bureau and making a racket.

"Alright, Musta, if you just toss it down, I'll catch it and—"

"_Hoho, _'you'll catch it' my bum! You'd probably step to the side as soon as I let go of him!"

Damiel huffed and stretched his hands toward Mustafa. His friend had yet to enter the Bureau and stood on the edge of the opening, cradling the unconscious boy in his arms. "Don't be difficult, Mustafa. Just toss him down already."

Malik stood in the entryway to the adjacent room, observing his novices with a bored yet keen gaze. It was usual for them to make this much noise—much to his dismay—but they were loyal and respected the Creed above all else, traits that seemed to be dwindling in these dark times.

"On three, yes? One, two, _three!" _Mustafa dropped the boy into the Bureau, and Damiel scrambled and managed to catch him. He staggered backward though, tripping on his own feet, and landed in the cushions behind him, sending some of them flying into the air.

Malik blinked.

Mustafa leapt down into the Bureau and pulled the boy off of Damiel. "You are alright, no?"

Damiel grumbled and heaved himself to his feet. He dusted his clothes off and gave an audible sniff. "Oh, better than ever, better than ever," he grumbled. "_Not." _

"I thought we'd already discussed my policy on souvenirs?"

Both novices turned to the doorway, having finally acknowledged Malik. They bowed their heads and shuffled their feet.

"This is all your fault," Damiel murmured to his friend. Mustafa waved him quiet and stepped forward.

"Forgive us, Master Malik," he said. "It is not our intention to disobey your orders. We both value your commands and after your previous punishment, we have no desire to stray from your laws."

"Scrubbing undergarments will do that to a person," Damiel added quietly. "Oh, the stains, the stains—_ow!" _He clutched his arm that Mustafa smacked and sent his friend a glare.

"Apologies are one thing, Mustafa. Reasons are another," Malik said. "And bringing in an outsider is strictly forbidden." His eyes swept toward the body Mustafa held.

"If you will allow us to explain, Master Malik." Mustafa motioned for Damiel. "Show him the coins." Damiel nodded and hurried to detach the pouch of coins at his belt and showed its contents to his Rafiq.

Malik's eyes widened then narrowed at the coins, for they were marked with the Templar insignia.

"We found him in the Kingdom, Rafiq Malik," Damiel said, "and he had these with him. He was unconscious, just as he is now, and Mustafa _had _to investigate—"

"For good purpose," Malik said. He took the pouch from Damiel and walked further into the room. "Lay the boy here." He gestured to a corner not padded with cushions or carpets.

"And what will we do with him? He might just be a courier—"

"_What _he is does not override _who _he is affiliated with. A simple courier or a lieutenant for the Templars—it matters not. If he is a Templar, he is as much an enemy as Robert de Sable, Mustafa." Malik stood over the body. "We will restore him to proper health. No answers will be given from a corpse."

Damiel nodded. "He had a horse and dog, Rafiq Malik. The horse is in the stable being tended to, but the dog is outside the Bureau. Should we bring it in?"

"The Bureau is not a hospital for outsiders, Damiel Karkafian. Do not treat it as such."

* * *

They tended to the boy over the next few days, making sure to give him water and humus. A few times his eyes opened, but they would not focus on either of the novices, and would close after a few moments.

Damiel sat with Mustafa as they helped themselves to breads and cheeses. Suppers were usually this simple, and Damiel could not wait until he'd visit Mustafa's sister with him again. She was a kind woman, if not round in every term of the word, and would feed them hot, home-cooked meals until they felt their insides would burst.

"Do you think he'll wake up?" Mustafa asked as he pointed a finger in the still body's direction.

Damiel shrugged and bit into a slice of bread. "Who knows? All I know is that they're no friend to us if they carry Templar coin. By the looks of him, he's probably a courier."

"But he had no letters on him," Mustafa reasoned. "Surely a courier would have letters?"

Damiel sneered and shook his head. "Could have been on his way to pick up a letter. Or, you know what I think?" He looked over at the body and took another bite of bread. "I think he's hiding something in those layers of clothes. Most unusual, _si?" _

"He was out in the heat, _ahbal." _Mustafa rolled his eyes. "He was trying to stay cool."

"But he is inside now, no? Jerusalem nights aren't exactly chilled. He's probably roasting."

Mustafa eyed his friend curiously. "Since when did you care about his wellbeing? And you heard what Master Malik said: this is not a hospital. Our job is to ensure he lives, not that he's comfortable." Mustafa looked down at his feet. "I don't want to disappoint Master Malik again. Not after what happened to Kadar."

Damiel sighed and stared at the stone floor. Kadar was a good friend to the both of them. Kadar adored his older brother, and in some ways, Damiel and Mustafa felt a part of their small family.

"_Si, _I know, I know. But I'm not doing any harm. If Rafiq Malik questions it, we can say we were suspicious of any hidden objects or belongings." Damiel saw to wrestling the headpiece off of the body while Mustafa disappeared into the other room. He came back with a basin of water and a cloth.

Damiel raised an eyebrow at him. "What is this?"

"I just thought, maybe there was a distinguishable feature on his face that would prove useful to us, should he ever escape our grasps." Mustafa smiled over at Damiel and chuckled. "I'm sure Master Malik will understand."

Damiel snorted and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Sly."

"It's my job."

Mustafa helped Damiel remove the headdress, and once the stubborn garment was off, they tossed it to the side. Mustafa dabbed the boy's face with the wet cloth, making sure not to miss a spot as he cleaned the dirt and sweat off of his face.

"He's not even a man yet," he said to Damiel. "Look at him: still a youthful child in his face. Would Templars stoop so low as to use children?"

Damiel clicked his tongue. "Of course they would! They're Templars, remember!"

They tackled the robe next, only to find another robe beneath it. Shrugging, the novices removed this one as well, not surprised to see what was under it.

"How many robes is he wearing?" Damiel grumbled. "You can dress the whole of the Brotherhood with what he's wearing." He poked the boy in the side and was rewarded with a small groan from him.

Mustafa cradled his head, keeping it propped on his shoulder as he continued to dab the cloth against his face. "I think he has a fever," he said.

"I think I have a headache from these robes," Damiel sighed.

"His forehead's warm. Yes, he has a fever," Mustafa confirmed. A sudden intake of breath from Damiel had Mustafa swivel his head toward his friend.

Damiel's face was bright red as he opened the final robe. Mustafa looked down to see what caused this reaction, and in a split second his face was as red as a beet.

"Sweet _Dios y Maria," _Damiel stuttered. Though they were not nearly as pronounced as Mustafa's sister's, they were still _there. _And Damiel was fairly sure that males did _not _have those. He'd consult a book in Malik's library to be sure if he had to.

"I think..." Mustafa swallowed and tried to avert his eyes. A small breeze slipped through the cracks of the Bureau's lattice opening, making what the boys were looking at harden into peaks.

"Hiding something, oh yes!" Damiel gulped.

Mustafa and Damiel glanced at the body's face, then back at its exposed flesh. Pieces clicked together in their minds as they comprehended that _No, this was not a boy, nor was it a boy in his early teen years._

It was a woman.

They shared a glance at each other before scrambling to their feet, pushing past and at each other as they barreled their way toward Malik's bed chamber, all the while whimpering in confusion.

* * *

Something rough and tight bound my wrists in place, as well as my ankles. Whatever it was dug into my skin whenever I made the smallest of movements and threatened to draw blood. Groaning, I slowly opened my eyes, blinking to clear the fog from my vision.

Blurs of yellow and brown swam across my vision, but soon I could make out sunlight streaming in from an open lattice roof. It shone right on my face, and I whimpered and closed my eyes from the sudden onslaught of light. I tried to turn on my side so that I wasn't staring at the light, but found that my body was too weak to move.

Daring to open them, I looked around the room I was in. Cushions littered one side of the room, and I noted that none had been given to me, as I was on the hard stone floor—

I glanced down, terror filling my eyes when I saw myself clad in only a large tunic, probably made for a man instead of a woman. It fell mid-thigh, but I had never been so exposed and indecent in my life, not even when I wore my chopped sirwals. I realized that the robes I wore for the Merchant King's celebration were made into strips, as they were binding my wrists and ankles. I curled into a ball, hiding my bare legs from sight, not that there was anyone to see me.

Murmurs coming from an adjacent room could be heard behind a closed door. Panic filled my breast when there was no sign of Shama or Basil—_just what had happened?_

I wracked my brain for an answer. There were moments I could remember: the Kingdom, Shama looking up at me, but mostly the heat I suffered. I remembered vague pieces, but there was no logical reason why I wold ride from Damascus to here—wherever _here _was, exactly.

The room was unfamiliar to me. I wondered if Ghalib had found me and had taken me as hostage. I could have been in Damascus for all I knew.

Tears filled my eyes. My friends could be dead, for all I knew.

_Oh, Shama, Basil... I'm so sorry._ _Sabir, forgive me._

The doorway opened, revealing two young men that didn't even spare me a glance. They walked with their heads hung low, and as if it was second nature to them, climbed up and out of the lattice opening.

I eyed the opening, the cogs in my mind turning with ideas. I knew it was foolish—dangerous, even. Even though my muscles protested when I stood up, even though my legs trembled from the effort of standing, I could not abandon my two most trusted companions, for they had seen me through the worst.

I could not stay in this strange place.

* * *

"You two are the most pathetic novices I'd ever known," Malik said. He folded his arm behind his back and stared his two pupils down. "First, you venture into the Kingdom without authorization from me. Then, you bring back a foreigner to our Creed—a _Templar, _no less. Thirdly, you do not even recognize the Templar to be a _woman." _Malik sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do you suppose I write to the Master? For I have to inform him of this, but you two have made it nearly impossible for me to do so without seeming like a complete fool."

He could just see the look on Al Mualim's face if he ever read such a report. Surely Altair would be there, ever the loyal dog, and mock him further. He could live without such ridicule.

His sword arm agreed with that.

"But Rafiq Malik, we didn't know—"

"Can you _not _tell the difference between a man and a woman, Damiel? Or do I have to send you back to the elementary training sessions?"

Damiel's eyes opened in fear and he shook his head 'no.'

Malik sighed and held his hand up when Mustafa tried to defend their case. "Nothing either of you say will change the situation. We will have to adapt to this little discovery, and I will see to informing Al Mualim. I want you two to continue scouring the city for information, and while you're at it, keep your tails between your legs and reflect on your roguish behavior."

The novices nodded and saluted their Rafiq before sulking out of the room to complete their tasks. Once the door closed behind them, Malik took his place behind the counter to pen his letter to Al Mualim. Damiel's and Mustafa's reasoning might have been well and healthy, and if this Templar had information to confess, they could actually have done something beneficial for the Creed.

For once.

Malik wasn't sure how Al Mualim would respond to the news, given that an outsider infiltrated the Bureau—

A small grin stretched on his lips, and he took the moment to quietly chuckle. '_Couldn't tell the difference between a man and a woman.' _

He dipped his quill in the inkwell, and before the tip of it could touch the parchment, a thump from the lounge room captured his attention and caused his head to snap up toward the door.

* * *

Translations:

Spanish:

_Dios y Maria: _God and Mary

Arabic:

_ahbal: _idiot


End file.
